Resolution: SkywalkerSaga 2
by DawnsJediWind
Summary: R&R! SW AU. Formerly *In Jabba's Palace: A Jedi and a Slave-girl* It's twenty-three years after the events of *Breakaway*, and a new Sith Lord, Vader, has arisen. But in the middle of the war, Luke meets a certain smuggler, and-well...we know what happens, or are about to. Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

**Declaimer: I own nothing, and am not working for profit.  
**

**Rated: T, with possible M content later on  
**

**A/N: This is the sequel to one of my other stories here, _Breakaway._ This is an AU version of ROTJ. Watching the beginning of Episode VI, I've always thought how it would be if a certain (_cough_) character was there. This is the result.**

**I've reedited and reposted the chapters I've written thus far for smoother reading and enjoyment. **

**EnJoy, and as always, tell me what you think about it! **

**{DJWind}**

**1**

The drive home to 500 Republicia was done in sullen silence. An intense silence that wanted to be broken, and yet no one had the courage or guile to do so. It might have been the fear that if the silence was disturbed, something else, something far more important and troubling, would be shattered, revealed to everyone in its horrid state. This was not a pleasurable, companionable silence, as if everyone was at ease with each other. It was tense and strained, and everyone in the speeder could feel it literally shimmer in the air, more-so through the Force.

The oldest Skywalker member sat, chin in hands, looking dourly out at the passing lights of the Republican City*****. The sun was setting on Coruscant, pronouncing yet another standard day drawing to an end, and its rays reached out, soaking everything it touched in brilliant reds and golds, the top of the Jedi Temple and the round dome of the Senate Building were like becons bathed in bloody red. Anakin sighed at the sight, and turned away. It wasn't that he was ashamed to see the city lit up with the last of the dying's sun's rays, as it was the symbolism that suddenly came to him. Blood, war, hatred, he could already see the scared scenes already, he could already smell the black stench of dead men, burning oil and fired engines. Twenty-three years was not enough to whip away the memories of what he—all of them—had had to endure during the Clone Wars. It had been a long time ago, many things had changed, and the Galaxy and the Republic had become more stable and wealthy than ever before, but all of that—Anakin sensed—was about changed. A change none of them desired to ever see again.

Anakin sighed again, letting his thoughts drift away, and reached for the sense of calm and security from the Force. He found it and let it wash over him in cool relieving waves. He felt his son's eyes flicker to him, making sure he was alright, sensing the sudden flood of peace through the Force after all the restlessness and anxiety he had felt from his father all day. He felt Luke probe at his mind, the curiosity of his family rising up in him.

_I'm alright, Luke,_ Anakin assured him, his heart warming at his son's concern. _ You'll know later. _

Luke withdraw from Anakin, and turned his concentration back to the road of racing speeders. He was momentarily patience, and all would be revealed in time, especially if it concerned all of them, which he sensed it did. He wondered briefly what had occurred at the Council Meeting his father had attended for the majority of the day. He had been suspecting something troublingly important all week, ever since he walk in on the apartment veranda and caught his parents talking quietly, the expressions on both faces frowning and worried. Then his father had looked up, and the mood had lighten tremendously in a few seconds. Luke had not thought about afterwards, nor did he dare to ask when he remembered.

Luke sped out of the leaned traffic, and turned towards the apartment that they fondly called home, the same apartment their mother had had long since he had been born. It was large and spacious, though with four adults it could become comfortably cozy, and not everything was clean and organize, much to the chagrin of their mother. Luke slid the speeder on the landing platform by the veranda, and jumped out after his father, then turned to help his sister, who had sat, quiet and thoughtful, throughout the whole ride, out and onto the smooth stones that led up to the apartment. Their mother, the Senator Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker, awaited them, delicate hands folded in front of her, her face beautiful and composed with serenity. She worn on of her large, senatory gowns in a deep rich, blue velvet and sparkling silver trim, for she had not yet changed into sometime more constrict and comfortable. Her long brown hair, greying at the edges, cascaded down her back in defied curls. Padmé greeted her husband with a soft kiss to the cheek, then smiled at her offspring as they gathered around to hug her. Anakin step aside and motioned for Artoo to roll into the center of the room, then he cleared his throat, indicating he wanted their attention. Padmé, suspecting what he was about to say to them, gracefully strode to the nearest sofa, and sat down, smoothing her skirts of invisible winkles. Luke and Leia sat down at her sides, and all eyes turned to Anakin who remade standing, hands behind his back, ready to make an important statement.

"I know that all of you have been sensing something's going on," Anakin begun, closely eyeing their reactions. "And, I confirm, there is." He took a deep breath, clearing his mind and steadying himself before saying, "War is threatening the Republic." He saw Leia pale every so slightly, and Luke's back stiffen very so slightly, Padmé remind her usual self, lips upturned in an easy smile, brown eyes concerned. Anakin paced to where Artoo sat and land a hand on his dome head, "There is a new Sith Lord that is trying to rally all of those loyal to past Separatists leaders. Through varies connections, we have been aware of him for the past few years, but now he's becoming a fatal threat. He has calmed control on several Outer Rim territories and is aiming for several Republican loyal systems—including Mandalore. We have sent troops and Jedi to protect these systems, but the Supreme Chancellor has yet to proclaim this war. This, I fear, will change. But—" Anakin motioned for Artoo to reveal a hologram that had been hidden within his wires. "We have learned from our spies that this new Sith is far more threatening than we originally thought. He has a planet size battle station that has the compatibility to destroy whole planets and star systems. How he was about to excheave this without our knowledge is beyond me." The hologram from Artoo revealed the plans of the battle station. "We are making a strategy to destroy it, but we will need your help," Anakin turned his pricing gaze on Luke and Leia. "I want you, Luke, to go to Tatooine. We've got some rumors that that slimball, Jabba, is preventing us access through his territories and is dealing with our enemy. I would like you to check it out, and see what that Hutt disease is up to."

Luke nodded, and asked unsurprised, "Well I be going alone?"

His father gave a thin, wary smile, "Yes, I asked Master Kenobi and Rex, but they're traveling to Yavin 4 to protect the Jedi Academy there. Beside," his smile broaden slight, and his blue eyes glittered mischievously at his son, "you will be able to tone your instances and negotiation skills. You will join Obi-wan at Yavin 4 when your mission's complete." Anakin turned to his daughter, knowing that Luke needed no more guidance, he was an exceptional pilot—almost as good as his old dad—and had the patience and diplomacy skills inherited from his mother. Leia, Luke's little sister by two years, had her mother's looks and dark hair, but father's practical side and shifting temper. She could negotiate, but she did not put up with kriff unwillingly.

"You," said Anakin, eyes on his sweet petite daughter, "well be coming with me to our Hoth base. They've been a lot of meteorite activity there, making it hard to determine incoming enemy star-destroyers. We'll all be leaving in two standard hours." He clapped his hands together, announcing the meeting had ended, allowing them to prepare for their missions. Leia left to retrieve her suitcase and pack her necessaries under the supervision of her mother, Luke lingered, still seated, thinking. Anakin, sensing his son stalling, stride over and sat down next him, the sofa cushion giving way under the Jedi's weight.

"I think you'll be fine," Anakin said softly, reading the thoughts fluttering in from Luke through their bond. It would be one of Luke's first mission entirely by himself with only Artoo and a com link connecting him to the outside world, and it would be his first really war-time mission added to that. Anakin knew how he felt, and he want to ensure that his son realized that.

"Am I required to do 'aggressive negotiations' or 'diplomatic negotiation' with Jabba?" Luke asked, rising his eyes to connect with his father. Both had the same sky blue swirling around their pupils, but Anakin had always believed his son's were deeper, more profound, then his.

Anakin smiled cockily, "If you heeded my advice, I'll go with 'aggressive negotiations' with that sleaze-ball. I've wanted to put my lightsaber up his ass for a long time, his more trouble to keep than it's worth. But—" here Anakin gave a long sigh and puffed out his lower lip, pouting childishly, "I suppose you'll have to diplomatically negotiate with him."

"And if he doesn't obey?" Luke needed to know the answers to the numerous oppositions that could occur.

Anakin stood up, stretching, "I guess you'll have to _accidentally_ kill him."

"Won't I be blamed for murder?" Luke took his father's offered hand and stood, only a few inches shorter than his father.

"No," Anakin assured him, knowing what he was talking about. "Tatooine isn't part of the Republic, and they generally don't care what happens outside their territories. We only use it as a trade foundation and stopping point to other planets in the Outer Rim. On second thought," he peered keenly at Luke, assuring he got the point, "Try not to inflict any life-threatening wounds on Jabba. I don't want the whole Hutt Clan coming out after us."

"I don't think they'll care," Luke stated as he followed his father up the stairs towards the bedrooms down the hall. "I've heard they don't really care about Jabba any more."

"I wonder why?" Anakin wondered aloud. He had a deep dislike for all Hutts, Jabba perhaps more than the others, though he did find it grimly amusing whenever the Hutts scrapped amongst themselves. It entertained him in a strange sort of way, it was like revenge without him having to do anything to impose it.

* * *

"Just be careful," Anakin reminded Luke two hours later as they prepared to part ways at the landing platform outside the Jedi Temple. "You'll be trending on quick-sand."

"I know," Luke looked up from checking his ship's controls. He cast his father a reassuring smile, "You be careful too, Dad."

Anakin gave a sour smile, "I'll be trending thin-ice where I'll be going." He clasped his son's hands, and shook it in parting. "May the Force be with you…son."

"And you, father," Luke felt his heart already aching to be home, safe and oblivious to the turmoil he would jumping headfirst into. His stomach fluttered with butterflies, and he was suddenly very glad he had eaten too much for the sparse meal they'd had before departing for the landing platforms. Luke engaged the engines, and starred his small X-wing fighter into Coruscant's atmosphere, sensing, as he rose up in the air, his father standing, looking up and waving a final good-bye to him. Luke did not look back down at the darkening planet that had been his home and refuge for over twenty-three years. He felt an awaking excitement that accompanying him whenever he went off-planet. He did not crave adventure like his father had, and like no Jedi should, but he excepted it with eager anticipation. Luke was quite ready for a little disruption to happen in his otherwise repetitive routine, and he sensed that his wish would be granted—and much more—where he was going.

* * *

***Imperial City**


	2. Chapter 2

2

He gazed out over the shaggy wasteland of flat-topped rocky ridges and sand caked desert. Upon him, under the protective, menacing gaze of the twin suns that watched over the bareness of Tatooine, the otherwise pricing blue sky was dimmed, drayed of its color by the sand flittering the air. He shaded his eyes from the sharp, almost blinding light, with a hand as he looked around. Sticky sweat streamed down his face, soaking the high collar of his tunic, and he blinked as it flowing down into his eyes, which were already irritated by the dirt in the air. Luke tossed back the hood of his brown cloak, and ran a hand through his hair, shaggy from the heat and wet from sweat. He did not know that any place could be so unbearably hot until he came to Tatooine not a day ago. He had settled his X-wing on the ridge above, invisible from the sight of preying eyes by clusters of sharp tipped rocks, and had climbed down the ridge to the caves below with what equipment he needed. He had been residing in those caves all day, resting and thinking about the impending mission until the day waned to a cooler hour. For away, on the horizon to his left, Luke could make out the tall structures of Jabba's palace. He studied it, shielding his eyes from the hoarse gaze of the sun, then returned to the cooler confinements of the cave behind. He took off his cloak, which seemed unbearably stiff and heavy over his shoulders, and spared it out on the rocky floor, then sat down, crossing his lags in a flexible lotus pose, and closed his eyes.

There was one thing—and only one so far—Luke found he liked about this deserter planet, and that was the quiet. Some could've easily been unsettled by the bareness and stillness, but the young Jedi found he was partial to it. Since its very beginnings, so many thousands of years ago, Coruscant had never known such a luxury as quiet. It was always teaming with nose and activity, and Luke had grown used to it, but he find he liked the quiet, and capability to _listen_, hear a bird's morning chatter, or the rattling tail of an adder, without flutteringly out other noses.

Luke mediated, letting the Force wash away his anxieties about the task he would embark on that evening, letting the relaxation, the calm, and then finally the peace, come to him. His felt his body sigh with relief as the awing strength of the hidden Force flowed through him, like water to a parched throat. Images came to him; visions of his mother seated on a coach, looking out over the city towards the Jedi Temple, of her in the Senate, heatedly debating with other Senators while Supreme Chancellor Organa looked on. The images shifted, and he saw his father, Anakin, and little sister, Leia, on Hoth with Commander Solo. Anakin's swaggered stride and sly smile with twinkling eyes, he looked so relaxed, so at ease with the world and the Force, yet so alarmingly imposing and alert, lightsaber always within reach. Luke sent him a wave of affection, and told him he had arrived at his destination.

_Good lock,_ came Anakin's reply, _Don't let that sleaze-ball get under your skin._

_ I won't,_ Luke assured, chuckling at his father's enact humor—he would never grow up to Uncle Obi-wan's standards—before letting the connection through the Force fade away, replace by calm and the awareness of desert and dirt. Luke let the Force flood over him until he reached the state of unconsciousness, then he slept.

His body woke—his conscious was still struggling—at twilight. Luke straightened from his seated position, and rose up, stretching his cramped limbs before striding to the cave's entrench and looking it. It was sunset, the twin suns brilliant orange in the darkening blue sky, and soon it would night. He shivered, rubbing warmth back into his arms as he realized just how cold Tatooine nights were, and retrieved his cloak, wrapped it around him. He flipped the hood up, and looking out, climbed down from the cave like a large black ghost. He jumped down the last few feet, landing with his hands, sending up little dust clouds. Luke stood, wrapping his cloak more securely around him and drawing the hood further down—almost to the tip of his nose, smothering his fetchers in shadow. He stride forward at an easy stride, cocking his head to one side now and again, listening for any warning sides with his heighted hearing. But he heard nothing and felt no warning from the Force, except the wind that suddenly begun to howl through the gorge. He shivered at the lonesome sound of misery and desalination. He figured the lightsaber that swung at his side, warming the cold steel and seeking comfort from the familiar object, tracing over all the nicks and cracks indicating it was a well used, well loved weapon.

It did not take Luke long to reach Jabba's Palace, a hideous stricture that looked awfully like the ruinous remains of an old age iron foundry. He cautiously approached the heavily corroded doors, and stopped, he didn't feel like he should attract attention to himself but he had to get in somehow. Suddenly, as he pondered his options, the doors slowly slid open with a groan of abused metal. Luke hastened, unsure what this meant, but only for a moment, then he strode cautiously in, looking around for any potential sign of danger lurking in the black corners. He felt nothing but unease and disgust.

As Luke strode determinedly down the wide dark corridor, he was met by two stubby guards who bared his way with spears. Without hesitation, Luke draw strength from the Force and pushed them back against the corridor's slime oozing walls. He passed them and continued on his way down into the dark depths of the Palace. His gut twisted as his nostrils were felled with a foul stench of unclean bodies crammed into too little space, and rotting food, and goodness knows what ease—Luke didn't dare want to know, or even imagine. His stomach rolled with queasiness, but he pushed the bail back down, and went on, the soon he had dealt with Jabba, the soon he could depart from this place forever.

Just as made to go down the small flight of stairs that entered into Jabba's main audience chamber, he was met by the Hutt's aid, who quickly asked over his busyness in slurred Basic.

"I've come with a message for your master," Luke quietly explained. "You will take me to Jabba now." He waved his hand—ghostly white against the dark folds of his cloak—inducting a Jedi mind trick.

"I—" the aid hastened, then nodded, "I will take you to Jabba now."

"You've serve your master well," Luke congratulated the aid as he followed him down into the audience chamber, though he kept the please out of his voice—keeping it strictly business formal. The Jedi strode defiantly to the certain of the room as those within it stirred from the rude interruption of their sleep. The platform upon which Jabba's gigantic fat body rested, groaned and _creaked_ as it rolled forward. Luke looked up and saw the Hutt for the very first time, finally realizing why his father disliked him so much. Jabba was like a blob of vomit someone did not dutifully clean away. His skin was sickly brown and green, and eyes menacing yellow; caked slobber ran down his double chin. Luke was utterly revolted by what he saw, but he pushed that disgust aside in a back corner, and bravely approached the platform. It was when he came closer, that he saw something else that horrified him, yet sent pangs of pity to his heart.

In the Hutt's fleshy folds, a woman lay on her side; un-amused and tight lipped, a sour expression on her pale face. She was chained, a choking collar around her neck that, from time to time, her master would tug on, forcing her back against his belly. Luke saw her, then glanced at her again, his attention captivated, this time letting his eyes roam over all the fine details exposed in her metal bikini. It did not leave much to the imagination—especially to one so active as the Jedi's. He noticed it was crafted out of flowing gold and bronze, with purplely-crimson skirts between the legs; boots of forest green and gold grazed her feet, providing some level of modesty where there barely was any. Luke let his eyes drift briefly over the woman's perfect craves and shallow cleavage, to finally settle for a moment on her face. She looked no older than himself, with red ombre hair braided and slug over one shoulder. He saw that her eyes were forest green—like the jungles of Yavin 4 or the vastness of Endor—and he found the color, one that he had seen a woman have before. But, despite her fair fetchers, her eyes were pricing, threatening, and her jaw was set in a determined line—Luke had seen that look before, of a strong, stubborn-willed controlled person who found her present situation insulting. He wondered what the woman's name was, where she had come from, and had her pride had gotten her into such a disturbing position as this. But Luke didn't dare wonder to long, and longed up, passed the enslaved woman, into the yellow eyes of her master.

"I am Luke Skywalker," he introduced himself stopping not two feet from the platform. "I have come with a message and a request for you."

Jabba bobbed his eyed, tugging at his slave-girl's collar, forcing her back into his fat, and spoke intelligible words Luke could not understand. His father was practically fluent in Huttese, having spent his childhood under the collar of slavery under the brutal Tatooine suns, but he had not encouraged his children to know it; Luke was glad, it did not seem like a particularly nice language.

Luke turned to the protocol droid which quickly translated what the Hutt said in Basic, "The Mighty Jabba asked why you have come, and what this message is you have for him."

"I have come to inform him that we are aware that he has had dealings with a Sith Lord, Darth Vader," said Luke diplomatically. "I have come to ask for you to keep your territories free for our use." He stood, hands clasped in front, patiently waiting as the protocol droid translated all his words to the Hutt.

Jabba roared disdainfully, tossing aside the droid as he angrily denounce to all the Jedi said.

"Oh, dear," said the protocol droid, scrambling up with green, gooey slime over him. "The Mighty Jabba asks why you think he has had dealings with Darth Vader." The fact that Jabba used the Sith's name so casually was evidence enough to confirm the Jedi's suspicions.

"This," Luke revealed a hologram in his hand, images listing supplies, credits, and slaves the Hutt had traded to the enemy. "We also have evidence that you no longer allow the Republic access to trade and resupply in your territories, breaking the treaty you sighed twenty-six years ago. We have case to believe that treaty is still intact, or….am I mistaken?" Luke posed the questioned diplomatically, a sly, grim smile outlined under the shadow of his hood.

Jabba said something angrily and too hasty for the Jedi's taste, he then motioned the droid to translate quickly, and the protocol droid turned to Luke, paling slight—if that was possible for a droid. "The Mighty Jabba says the treaty no longer exists, and that he will not offer his services to the Republic again. Darth Vader pays him too handsomely for his supplies. He—he suggest you leave when you have the catch."

Luke realized the diplomatic negotiation were over, and the aggressive debate was prominent in the future. "Very well," Luke reached to one side, summoning a blaster from one of the nearby bounty hunters. As soon as it came in contact with his hand, he pulled the trigger and aimed at Jabba's heart, but his footing slipped as the grating to the pit below opened and he was thrown down. Luke rolled and sprang to his feet, tossing his cloak aside with the useless blaster, and calling his lightsaber to his hands as the presence of danger heighted. He looked up at the grating above, knowing he was trapped, and saw the court of Jabba yowling and stumping for the entertainment to begin. Only the slave-girl remained quiet, except for occasional protests as Jabba tugged her to him, and her face remained indifferent to Luke's danger, only her eyes spoke of the concern and fear hid beneath. Luke sent a tendril of reassurance to her through the Force, though he doubted she noticed, and looked back to wait danger awaited him. His throat tightened, and his blue widened to black as he realized what his opposite was, a Rancor from Dathomir. The massive, tough-skinned creature of snapping jaws and biting claws roared at him, intent on killing him and eating the warm flesh off his bones. Luke tightened his hold on the lightsaber, ready to ignite it and attack the ferocious beast. He stood his ground, planting his feet in the slippery sand, and call upon the Force for strength and guidance. The Rancor advanced, its chopping claws descending upon its prey. As its clumsy figures fell to snatch up Luke and devour him, the Jedi swung the lightsaber over his head and cut off his hand in one swift stroke. The Rancor howled, clutching its hewed arm as black blood gushed forth. Luke leapt to one side, avoiding the burning blood and ran to the other side of the pit, struggling up the stones to the door to the pit. He closed his lightsaber, and turned back to see the Rancor raging at him, blind by fury and pain, his only thought was the kill, kill the thing that had given him the stinging wound, kill it for revenge. He advanced to the gate that closed off access to the door out of the pit. Once inch further. Luke picked up a large stone as the beast continued to advance. Soon he would be within reach of his prey and chew off its legs, then devour it whole. Luke braced himself against the door grating, and throw the stone he held at the button the closed the gate; it slid down, baring its sharp teeth into the Rancor's neck. The Rancor let out something akin to a gasp, and died. Luke sighed, overwhelmed with relief, but his victory was short-lived, and he felt himself hulled away by cruel hands back the audience chamber with Jabba ranted and raged.

"For your treachery against the Mighty Jabba," the protocol droid informed Luke once he had been rudely persisted to the Hutt. "You will be taken to the Pit of Carkoon, where you will be fed to the Sarlacc, and will know a new definition of pain and suffering as you are slowly disgusted over a thousand years."

Luke did not quail at the mention of the fearsome Sarlacc, he had endured one deadly creature, he undoubtedly could again. "This is your last chance, Jabba," he called over his shoulder to the laughing Hutt as several guards roughly bound his hands in crude chains and hulled him away. "Free me or die."

But Luke's only reply was the cruel laughter that followed him down the corridors to the prison pits. The guards pushed him inside, forcing him to lose his balance and fall to the muddy floor. He scrambled quickly to his feet as his bare hands touched the slimy surface, and leaned against the nearby wall, wondering what next to do. His hands were tied and he could not retrieve the lightsaber at his side, he was thankful that Jabba had overlooked the weapon and not taken it from it. Luke felt for his comlink to dial Artoo, but he could not reach it. He sighed, aggravated, and closed his eyes, mediating on what to do next.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The noise of many, hurried feet and struggling guards trying to overcome a protesting prisoner caused Luke to raise his head from where it had be resting contentedly on his knees. How long he had been in the pit prison under the stone and metal foundations of the Palace, the Jedi did not know, but he sensed it had only been a matter of a few miserable hours. Curiosity heightening, he scrambled stiffly to his feet, and peered out of the barred prison door, craning his head awkwardly to see who was approaching. Two of the guards who had escorted himself from the audience chamber appeared, dragging a reluctant slave between them. They came closer, and the slave's fetchers where suddenly revealed to the watching Jedi. Luke almost chocked, but held his breath and slowed his suddenly racing heart. His hands tightened their hold on the tarnished steel, almost deforming them with his strength. They had come to his prison, and out of ignorance or the will of the Force, the doors to the Jedi's cell where opened and the slave-girl thrown inside. She collapsed to floor, whirled on the quickly retreating guards, and hissed at them very much like a Corellian cat would hiss at an unwelcome intruder. Luke braced himself against the nearby wall, and did not dare to move, or even breath, sensing his company's hot wrath through the Force. Quickly, she leapt to her feet—having not been harmed pasted ignorance—and shook the prison door, crying out protests in what Luke assumed was Huttese. Her hair had somehow freed itself from the braid and hung down the woman's back and shoulders, concealing at least some of her nakedness in a blanket of wavy red stands. Luke suddenly wished he had his cloak to offer her to wrap around her shoulders shaking from a mixture of cold and fury. The woman at length gave up all attempts to reason with her captivers, and slid to the floor, bare back against the barred door, head in her arms, but not to weep in her frustration, but to think. He do not move from out of the shadowy corner he had retreated to, sensing that the woman was still oblivious to his presence. But suddenly she looked up, her face pale in the grey light, and her eyes—still smothered with coals of fury—turned on him and sought him out. Realizing she was far from alone, she sprang to her feet, body posed for action, hands clutched in fists.

"Who are you?" She hissed through the darkness towards Luke.

He stepped out from the corner out of its gloomy, into the light the grated ceiling above provided. She gave a sharp breath—clearly recognizing him—and retreated back against the nearby wall.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Luke assured her gently, like he would to a small, sacred animal.

"I don't believe you," her voice was no less low or threatening.

Looking into her flashing eyes, Luke saw that this statement was turn. "I can't...hurt you. I can't even reach my weapon," he pointed out, indicating his head towards his hip where his lightsaber dangled harmlessly.

The woman frowned, her fair fetchers wrinkling up disdainfully. Then, in lightening quick moments, she leapt upon him and retrieved the lightsaber, ignited it and holding it to his throat in one flowed moment, forcing him to the floor. The weapon quivered dangerous close to him, and Luke looked up at the woman, pleading silent for mercy. Their eyes locked—pure blue of the sky above, dark jungle green flaked with lightening—and so did their wills. As he struggled to hold his own against the assaults the woman inflicted upon him in his mind, Luke came to realize that she was Force sensitive, but not a Jedi, though he guessed rightly that she could use a lightsaber with deadly accuracy and fatal results.

"Why is a Jedi like you here?" The woman hissed dangerously in his ear. She said the word Jedi sourly and with scorn, the first time he had ever known a person to do so.

"You have not come to negotiate with Jabba," she confined. " Have you come to kill him?"

"I will not kill the unarmed," Luke quietly informed her, the lightsaber still locked to his throat. "Not even a crime-lord"

"How noble," she touted sarcastically. "Bit even crime-lords need to die from time to time."

"Why do you want him died?" Luke asked, feeling her intentions through the Force that shivered with intense heat between the inches from their faces.

"Let's just say..." She negotiated coolly, "that me and him have had a-falling out. I did not return a shipment of spice to him soon enough, and he got into his worm-render mind to enslave me for my lateness. I've done enough for Jabba, and it's time he paid up."

Luke could not help a sly smile from sipping onto his face as he finally discovered the identity of this notorious woman. "Ahh, The infamous Mara Jade," he let his voice drip with sarcasm.

"I see-my reputation proceeds me," said the woman.

"It does indeed."

Mara Jade was one the of the finest—slipperiest—smuggles known in the Galaxy and Outer Rim planets. She was infamously known for her practically, deadly, business manner and savage temper. She was a supreme smugger, ashamed assassin and bounty hunter of the criminal underworld slime and the black market engineers, it did not surprised the Jedi that she worked for the notorious Hutt Clans. But now, he had found a key to her future downfall, her Force capabilities and strength was the mobility of her fierceness.

The Jedi and the Smuggler's eyes remained locked in deadly combat, each striving to overwhelmed the other with their mental assaults, but it was the woman, Mara Jade, who abruptly ended her attack on the Jedi and withdraw from his mind. She closed the lightsaber and flung it aside as if it stung her with a sharp bite, before retreating to the far wall. She turned away from Luke's watchful, searching eyes, and sat down, huddled like a weary, freighted child, arms closed around her slender body to gather what warmth they could.

Luke rose awkwardly to his feet and cautiously approached her. He sat down beside her, but said nothing, sensing he would only be rebuked if he tried to comfort her, she did not want his pity and he would not waste it on her.

"I-I can help you," he said, very quietly very gently without setting his gaze on her bent form. "I can help you escape from here."

"There is no escape from here," and there was despair in her cold voice.

Luke surpassed a shiver down his spin, recognizing the voice of someone who has lived only for themselves and will die by themselves. But that was not him, so long as he blood flowing through his veins and oxygen to breath he would fight for survival; he had not been brought up by his father to let go and except the possibility of death.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, skeptical.

"I used to live here!" Mara snapped sourly, "I know this dung-heap like the back of my own hand, Jedi! Jabba will have all the corridors out of here well guarded, after the trick you pulled."

"It's seems we're in agreement then!" Luke retorted, pushing his patience aside, and letting cold insult into his voice. "Jabba needs to die, and it seems we're the only ones capable of doing so! Stop drowning in your own self-pity, Jade, and cut this bounds." As the last words dropped from him, he realized his grave mistake as Mara whirled on him, garbed his throat with unkind figures, and forced him against the wall. He gasped, struggling to breath under her tight grip.

"Don't you _ever_ dare tell me want to do, Jedi!" Mara hissed, her voice dangerous and chill as thin-ice. "I take orders from _no-one_, least of all you scum!" She flung him down to crawl in the slime of the floor, and summoned his lightsaber to her cold figures. In one-swift stroke, she cut the bonds that held him, then grapping his collar, crudely forced him to his feet like she would an disobeying school-boy. "You show me how to get out of this Sith hell, Jedi," she roughly throw his weapon back in his hands.

"Perhaps, if nicely—"

"Nice isn't in my vocabulary, Jedi," Mara gave a cold, cruel chuckle. "Now. Get to work before the guards return. I might not have a lightsaber, but I sure has hell have my feet to kick in your ass."

There was no better—or worst—prompting for Luke to ignite his lightsaber and began sawing through the corroded metal bars of the prison door. The weakened metal melted under the heat of the saber, and in a matter of mere minutes he had created a hold big enough to crawl through. He closed his weapon and stepped aside, motioning Mara first like the courtly gentlemen he could be. She snorted disdainfully and crawled outside the prison, him quickly following before she could change her mind and leave him to fight off the impending guards who would undoubtedly return soon.

"This way," Mara mounted over her shoulder to Luke. He nodded, indicated he understood her, and they walked, silently, quickly down the passageway passed the numerous other prison pits were prisoners long forgotten rotted away their lives. They turned several corners, gradually descended up towards the surface, and passed several guards, each inducting a mind trick so that they slipped by undetected. They had quietly passed the finally corner and were approaching to mount the stairs leading up the audience chamber, when Mara unexpectedly halted and raised her hands, a blaster suddenly pointed at her heart. Luke stopped in mid-stride as dagger was posed at his throat, and looked up—into the face of a very familiar bounty hunter whose name had plunged the Galaxy since before he'd been born, Cad Bane.

"Will…" said Bane, "…what have we here? Escaped prisoners? Tut-tut," he clicked his throat mockingly. "The famous Mara Jade, Jabba's slave-girl? I thought I'd never see the day," from his voice, he was clearly relieved that he had. "And—who is this, Skywalker's little brat?"

"If you're quiet done—" begun Mara coolly.

"No, I'm not," Band interrupted her easily, turning his red eyes back on her from studying Luke. "I need to talk to you, Jade, and since Jabba won't let me, I'm going to have to brake the roles—"

"What do you won't from me, Bane?"

"Oh, nothing…not yet leastways. But. Come now, Mara, let's be civilized and return to your cozy cell without argument. We don't want Jabba knowing you're escape, now do we?"

"Fine," Mara spit in his blue face and turned around, blaster to her back. She shot a warning glance at Luke as Bane and his company forced them back down the way they had come, back to their miserably stinking prison cell. Bane leaned lazily against the broken door as they failed in and Mara waited for him, arms crossed in a business matter, impatience scorn on her lips.

Bane smiled slyly and said, nimble figures playing with his blaster, "Jabba is get too bold and too lenient. He hasn't paid me the full price for my recent _deliveries_, and yet he still requests my help. I'm sick of him, and I'm sure you are too, Jade."

"He enslaved me for no better reason than I was _late,_" Mara explained bitterly.

"Exactly. He's too comfortable for my—all of our tastes. It's time we remind the Hutts dependent they are on us bounty hunters. Me and…my friend have a plan, but—it will require you two's help."

"I won't help you until you settle your score with me," Mara retorted warningly.

"Oh, please, Jade," Bane rolled his red eyes under the shadow his wide-brim casted over him. "She's of no interest to me, I distaste junky droids. I'll return her to you afterwards."

"Fine, I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but I'm warning you, _Bane_, I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"What about you're nice little friend, Skywalker?" Bane inclined his head towards said Jedi.

Luke had stood aside, weight and merging the bounty hunters with both his probing eyes and the Force. He did not trust Cad—after all his father and Kenobi had reported of his infamous actions during the Clone Wars—but there was no other way he was escaping the Hutt's clutches without their help or a fatal fight. His eyes flickered to Bane's company, a smaller slender figure masked and cloaked, a dagger and blaster dangling on his utility belt. There was something vaguely familiar about this bounty hunter, and when he tried to investigate with the Force, he was blocked by strong shields, indicating the possibility of Force sensitive.

"He's with me," Mara said for the Jedi. "Or else he's not going anywhere." Her voice came to Luke as a warning to behavior or else….

"Good," Bane seemed pleased. "Jabba's going to take you to Sarlacc in several hours. Both me and my _friend _will be onboard. You and Skywalker will deal with guards on the execution barge, well we deal with Jabba—"

"Not too fair—" begun Mara tauntingly.

"Don't get spirit with me, _Jade,_" Bane warned lowly. "I settle my scores with Jabba once and for all. Now. Are you coming or not, my lovelies?"

"Yes," Mara answered coldly.

"Good," Bane secured his hat and flounced out of the prison, tossing over his shoulder, "You won't regret it."

"We'll see, _Bane_," Luke heard Mara growl under her breath.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

He opened his eyes, then closed them again, the brilliant sparkling grains of sand blinding him and casing the muscles behind his eyes to ache from the light. His fleshed face stung with the merciless heat and the sand swept up by the wind produced by the desert skiff as it sped inches above sandy sea. The chains of his bounds weighted unbearably heavy, and the hot metal blustered his wrists, casing him to flinch whenever he rubbed against them; he rested them on the skiff railing, and tried not to think too much about want was undoubtedly coming.

Slowly Luke opened his eyes again, but it was the same scenery; scorching sand of faded yellowing, sparkling like a multitude of diamonds in a flawless, endless sea. The only source of shade anywhere in the dry ocean came from Jabba's sail barge that sped meters before them, leading the way to their doom.

"There is nothing to sea," Luke quietly voiced his thoughts aloud to no-one in particular, though Mara Jade was close beside him to his right. Her neck collar had been replaced by the cruel bounds, and she stood, erect, skin fleshed from the merciless suns, disdainful of her situation, but excepting it nonetheless. Under the harsh heat, her attire—or lack thereof—were far more suitable and comfortable they her companion's black tunics. Luke found, despite harsh words of rebuke to himself, quite taking in by the smuggler's beauty, though he couldn't say the same for her temperament.

"I used to live here, you know," said Mara dryly, hearing Luke's voice, the only sound she echoed after leaving the confinements of Jabba's Palace.

"You're going to die here, convenient," mused Cad Bane, one of the four bounty hunters to guard the captives. He stood, leaning against the railing, twirling a sprig of weedy hay found in the gorges of the desert, in his mouth, relaxed and amused, embracing the entertain to come.

Before either Jedi or smuggler could retort to Bane, they found they had come to their designation, and doom. The waves of sand gave way to a gradually declining hole, spiked teeth laying its edge, the Sarlacc greedily gasping for its promised meal, it's thick crimson-brown tongue moving in and out. The skiff were the captives stood, slid to a halt above it, and they looked down at their doom. A death by Sarlacc was perhaps not the most ideal way to die, their stomach aced and tight muscles inflicted torturing beyond imagine, a torment that last for years uncounted and unknown. Any one, Jedi or not, would prefer a more humane—quicker, painless death to the infamous tortures of the Sarlacc. Luke felt the bile rise in his throat as he glimpsed the bagging tongue of the creature below his feet, but he swallowed it, and remained calm, reaching for security and peace from the Force. His muscles tightened, and his set his mouth in a thin, un-amused line of discontent as the guards released him from his bonds and pushed him rudely out onto the plank over the pit. Luke looked up as Jabba announced their doom and the protocol droid interpreted warily. He felt inclined to plead with the Hutt one more time, but he sensed the he did not have any sympathy for them or their case. The Jedi wondered briefly what would happen if he did indeed die as the Hutt desired, would his father come to avenge him and kill all the scrum that controlled the planet, or would he simply remember his son to best of his abilities? Luke wished to be remembered, but he'd done so little in his twenty-three years, undoubted he would be forgot, only famed for the being the only son of the Hero With No Fear. There were much the young Jedi desired to do—the primary desire to have a family of his own, a son who would call him father. He wished he had the time to become a Jedi Master, and help his rebuild the Jedi Order into sometime less steric and more holy, there was one particular place he had always thought would make a secure and sacred stronghold for yet other Jedi Academy outpost. After the Purges marking the end of the Clone Wars so many years ago, many great, noble Jedi had been ruthless murdered by Darth Sidious and his apprentice, Count Dooku. So few had been left, and the tumult which followed made many parents reluctant to allow their Force sensitive child upbringing at the Temple. Through the years, Anakin, Yoda, and Plo Koon had funded many smaller Academies through the Galaxy and Outer Rim territories.

But Luke would not be discouraged by despair, it was just a flitting thought he had, wishing to know what the Force had in store for him, would he die here by the torture of a Sarlacc, or live to fight another day. He looked up at the sail barge, and raised a hand, solemnly saluting his farewell.

He stepped out off the plank's end.

His hands reached up and garbed hold of the plank's end, just as he slipped down. He pulled himself upwards and limped, rolling in the air flawlessly, the Force popping him up, and landed on the deck of the skiff. He caught the lightsaber Bane tossed to him, ignited it and saw through Mara's bonds. As soon as she felt herself released, the smuggler turned on the nearby guard and wrestled him off the skiff, throwing him over the railing, down into the eagerly awaiting Sarlacc. Bane had dealt with the other, and had jumped to the other desert skiff, blaster the other guards and bounty hunters down to feed the Sarlacc below. Luke leapt from the skiff onto the sail barge, climbing up its side and pulling down the guards that threatened to fire at him. He jumped onto the deck, steadying himself with a hand, and ignited his lightsaber to deflect the blaster shots the guards and bounty hunters aimed at him. He defended himself, and returned the shots to kill several of the enemy as Bane jumped to the deck and joined him. More and more enemies emerged from the lower levels of the barge, and attacked Luke and Bane ruthlessly, trying to gain the upper hand, but they were gradually pushed back or killed.

As Luke turned and deflected a blaster shot back to the one who had fired it, he glimpsed a green blade suddenly ignited out of the corner of his eyes. He turned towards the lightsaber, to better see who welded such a weapon beside himself, and flawlessly beheaded a Jawa that jumped down from the deck's cannon upon him as he joined the other Jedi.

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, deflecting and defending the numerous blaster shots aimed in their direction.

"I didn't know you were a Jedi," Luke easily commented as, with a twist of the wrist, he repelled a shot away from his chest. He was pleasantly surprised and comforted by a familiar presences of another Jedi, however unknown. She was a beautiful, young Togruta with long, blue and white stripped head tails that swayed with her lethal, quick movements. She held and moved her lightsaber in a way Luke had never seen before, pushing and repelling shots with backward swings then up and forward. Under her brown cloak, she worn blue and tunics after the fashion of the Jedi, secured by a tight corset stash and utility belt. Her movements were quick and direct, and in a blink of an eye, she had advanced on the retreating bounty hunters and beheaded them with a single stroke of her saber.

"Get that cannon, and point it at the deck!" Luke yelled at her over the din as she rejoined him. She acknowledged him with a quick nod of the head, her hours bobbing above her, and gracefully mounted the deck cannon, turning it inward towards the sail deck. She leapt from it into Luke's arms as he griped hold of a nearby rope dangling from the sails above. He pushed cannon's firing lever down with a booted foot, and pushed them off the edge of the barge to the skiff below as the cannon fired, and the deck exploded, raining fire and debar as Luke landed onto the skiff. He planted his face, and griped the railing as Mara steered the skiff to one side, avoiding the still exploding faro of the barge, his balance slightly off. The sound of steel cashing against the metal of the deck shook Luke's senses, and he looked down, realizing he had suddenly, accidentally dropped his weapon. He bent and reached for it with numb figures, but a gloved hand took it before him, and looking he found himself eye-to-eye with the Togruta Jedi.

"I—believe this is yours," she handed it to him without braking their eye contact.

Luke nodded, and took it, absentmindedly attaching back to his belt, at once feeling complete with the familiar, unbalanced weight on his left hip. Suddenly, he was gabbed with the desire to tell this mysterious Jedi his name and origins. Quickly, just as she turned away to speak with Bane who stood lazily against the railing as Mara steered the ship to their destination, Luke introduced himself, "I-I'm Luke…Luke Skywalker." At the mention of his last him, the Togruta turned swiftly back to him, and survaid him with piercing eyes. Her pupils enlarged to saucers, and her crimson face paled to a dark pink. Luke reached out to steady her, fearing she would suddenly faint. At his unexpected touch, she flinched and blinked, looking up into his face. She seemed to study him, comparing him to someone else, roaming over every detail, scar and wrinkle more than once. Shyly, she lifted her hand and reaching out, stroked his blonde curls. Luke felt himself grow red, the tips of his ears burning, but not by the heat of the ruthless suns above. She quickly redraw, and looked down, as if ashamed of her behavior.

"I-I'm sorry," she said, flustered, without lifting her eyes to meet the other Jedi's gaze.

"No, that's alright," Luke assured her, smiling kindly down at her, eyes twinkling understandingly.

She gasped, and back away, grasping the railing to both assure her of something real and hard, as well as something to support her if she fell.

Luke took a cautious step towards her, his face frowning with worry. "Or you alright?" he asked concerned.

"I… Yes—I think so," she answered, confusing in her voice. She looked at him, closer than before, "You so much like him, but you can't be—" her voice faded away, and she scrunched up her brows, perplexed.

"I'm—like _who_?" he probed gently, keeping his voice, sensing this conversation was only for their ears and not for the others onboard. He could feel her confusion, frustration, and more-so, deep shook through the Force.

"My old master," she lifted her eyes from where she had dropped then to the deck.

"Who?" Luke wanted to know, for he felt that something would shift and change for the better if he only knew the truth.

"You…look like…Skyguy—Master Anakin Skywalker."

Luke surpassed a grin of realization; this woman—Ahsoka—was his father's old Jedi Padawan. His very first apprentices, the one that had left him after the Jedi Council had doubted her word on a mysterious murder, shortly after his own mother, Padmé, had been assigned to him. Anakin's first love interest, and first broken heart.

"I'm Luke," he told her again, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "Anakin's son."

The Trogruta, Ahsoka, gasped, her eyes widening. "I-I thought he died during the purges," she stammered, shook reverberating off her.

"No, unfortunately not," mused Bane before Luke to answer. He grinned amused at them, finding their surprised expressions at his knowledge entertaining. "It's common knowledge the Jedi scrum is still alive, especially among the underworld—alas."

Ahsoka frowned disdainfully, "My contract to you lasts only on-planet, Bane—"

"Are your threatening to come after me, brat?" Bane raised his eyes under the shadow of his hat.

"She may not, but I will!" Mara Jade snapped, intervening and speaking for the first time since they had escaped. Luke had felt her patience stretched thin, and knew it was only a matter of time before she lashed out.

Bane casually turned to the other woman, saying lazily, "Aren't you satisfied I saved your life, _Jade_?"

"I won't say it was much of rescue," Mara growled, keeping her hot gaze ahead as she steered towards the form of a ship laying in the wastes edging the dune sea. Luke peered keenly ahead, barely able to make it out as they rose and fell with the dunes, and saw it was rather large and round with the pieced form of a ship much used. Mara piloted the skiff under its shadow and Luke looked up, expecting it with a flyers understanding of aircraft.

"What a piece of junk!" Ahsoka exclaimed as she jumped down from the skiff into the soft sand below.

"An understatement surely," mused Bane as he followed her with casual strides.

"If you dis my ship, you'll get no such pleasure as getting off of this distball," Mara growled warningly as she approached her ship and lowered the gangplank with a _creak_ of corroding metal.

"I'm in no hurry to get off-planet," Bane retorted casually but with a tint of menace edging his words. "I need to go to Mos Eisley for reasons of my own interest and importance."

"Do tell," returned Mara icily. She crossed her arms, and glared threateningly at the infamous bounty hunter. "I expect to be paid—well paid."

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm not promising you anything, Jade. Besides," Bane cocked his head back towards Luke, "I think Skywalker wants you to go with him."

"Really?" Mara turned her cold gaze on said Jedi who returned it without flinching.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Luke coolly confessed. "You are a smuggler, and your qualities will be valued highly to my friends."

"And by friends, I assume the NR?" Mara arched a brow, a cold smile trigging on her pursed lips.

"Your skills will be valuable, and…you will be giving a good reward for your work," the young Jedi put his negotiation skills at work. He knew how many of the smugglers working for crime-lords like Jabba on the black market thought, credits and good rewards were always in the forefront of their minds.

"Umm…" Mara seemed to think, then snapped, "No! I'm not working for the NR, or any other religious cases you Jedi are into. I work for the money, and _only _for the money, and I seriously doubt your precious government has enough to satisfy me."

"If money's all you want," Luke replied coolly. "Money is what you'll get."

"Well, then you'll have to reward me now," Mara held out her hand, ready to seize the credits Luke could give her.

"You'll get your reward when you come to me to Yavin 4," Luke explained to her, another plan formulating in his mind. If she came to Yavin, perhaps he could get into joining their case. He sensed that she withheld qualities that would make her an extremely valued asset and deadly fighter. There was even a chance she could become a great Jedi, but his thoughts were getting the better of him, and he doubted she would even consider the possibility of becoming a Jedi.

"You wise enough to except that, Jedi," Mara said, reading his thoughts in his eyes. "But, I'll go to Yavin, and get my reward, but _nothing_ else. I'm _join_ your precious case, whatever it is."

Luke surpassed a smile, feeling that the Force had something very special in store for this particular woman. Little did he know that he would be greatest pawn in that plan, though it did cross his mind that their paths would meet many, many times before the end.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

"General Skywalker," Rogue Squadron founder and leader, Arhul Narra, said, approaching Anakin as he studied hologram battle plans with Clone Captain Rex. The Jedi turned to the man in question, probing him to continue his report with a wave of his hand.

"Two ships are entering Yavin's atmosphere," Narra continued. "One is X-wing class, the other is a—" he looked down to check his datapad, "YT-1300 light freighter." Anakin raised his eyebrows at this, suddenly wonder what exactly his son had been up to in the past five days. After he had contacted him upon arriving at Tatooine the connection had faded, only a tendril of uneasy or manly embarrassment occasional drifting through the Force to reach his father. But Anakin had been too busy to mind them much, his thoughts elsewhere at the tasks at had.

Shortly after father and son had parted ways on Coruscant, Anakin and Leia had flown to the Outer Rim planet of Hoth, where a Clone base was housed since the start of the Clone Wars. It had been neglected to almost a ruinous state, but in the past year a legion of Clones had repaired it and were now based there, tracking the movements of the enemy under the thick layers of hardened ice and snow. The Jedi went to inspect it, as well as to investigate the unusual active of meteorites. Not a day after their arrival, the base was attacked by advancing ships of the enemy. Anakin and Captain Rex had no choice but to retreat with what remained of their men. They had returned to the base on Yavin the night before, and were preparing for any more advancements by the Sith Lord, Darth Vader. Obi-wan had been called back to the Temple by the Council, and he was happy to have an excuse to leaving, more than ready and willing to leave everything in Anakin's hands. He was not as young as he used to be, and preferred his feet firmly on solid ground to high up above a planet. Frankly, Anakin was glad he had gone; it gave him an opportunity to be reckless for once—without an expected lecture afterwards.

"They're asking permission to land sir," Narra informed Anakin.

"Grant it," he said without further hastening, feeling an acutely familiar presence as the ships glided into to land. He smiled fondly, welcoming the warm, bright presence of his son; there was no one else Anakin knew that had such a Force signature like him. But suddenly, as he was basking in his son's return, he brushed against something—someone else that glowed strongly in the Force. The presence was so familiar, Anakin could almost—barely—pen point it, yet the name associated with it refused to be captured. He knew this presence so well! Who was it? What was happening that he couldn't bring a face—let alone a name—up that went with the signature?

Anakin bite his lower lip, aggravated that age was finely getting to him however hard he tried to ignore its presence and advancements. He glanced up from the holograms to Captain Rex. The Clone himself had seen better days, and his increasing age was displayed in fresh wrinkles among the white scars of bygone battles. Grey and white heavily streaked his black hair, and his brown eyes looked out under heavy brows. But he still stood erect and imposing, he would always be the trusted, loyal commander Anakin was so fond of.

Rex caught the General's wondering eye, and asked, "Yes, General?"

"Send for Leia and Commander Solo, I need to speak with them." Anakin straightened his bent back, easing the tense muscles of his neck with a messaging hand. "I'm going to see who are guests are."

"Do you want Fives to go with you, sir?" Rex asked out of humble concern for his friend.

Anakin smiled, sensing the Clone's concern. "No," he assured, "I'm a Jedi, remember?"

"But age isn't getting younger with any of us," said Rex dryly. "Even to Jedi."

"Yes, but I still hold my own in any fight. Look at Master Yoda, he's nine-hundred years old, yet still as perky as twenty years ago."

Rex nodded, remembering the Grand Jedi Master whom he had worked with on a number of past mission. He actually privately thought that the advanced age of Yoda was making him go "_cracked"_ in particular ways, that and the fact that he could reportedly speak with the dead. He knew from experience that Jedi weren't the most sane people out there.

Anakin strode down to the lower levels of the Grand Temple to the hanger bay below where numerous star-fighters and other vehicles were housed, excluding his beloved yellowed interceptor, which was stylishly outdated by more recent models. Passing it, he fondly rubbed a hand along its grimy side, wishing it farewell until their next meeting. He blinked and had to case a hand over his eyes as he stepped out from under the hanger bay into the bright light of mid-afternoon. The mist so common to the planet clung to the jungled forests, but a few weak rays of sun filtered through to warm those below. He shivered as a surprising cool wind touched him, and looked up as Luke climbed out of his X-wing, and jumped to the concert platform below. He took of his helmet, rumbling up his hair, and grinned at seeing his father. Anakin welcomed him with a hard handshake and slap on the back, acknowledging him with a nod of the head, further greetings would have to wait. They let go of each other and stepped back, still surveying each other for a moment longer, the Anakin glanced up at the freighter that had just landed. A look of amusement and mischief crossed his face, and he cleared his throat, surpassing a chuckle at the sight of the battered, barely flyable freighter.

"My god," Anakin murmured to Luke, tipping his head towards the vetting ship, "is that thing even legal to fly?"

"I'm—not sure," Luke replied hastening.

Anakin stepped back, surveying it with keen eyes, "It must have some…er—special modifications to prevent it from falling apart."

"I see you know your ship," Mara Jade stride down the gangplank, a oil-rug in her hand. She disrobed the metal bikini, replacing it with more modesty; polished black boots over a baggy grey jumpsuit secured at the waist by a black belt. It was then both Luke and Anakin noticed the lightsaber dangling on her hip. The older Jedi turned to his son with a raised eyebrow and a question in his blue eyes, curious to know Luke's report.

_Later, Father_, Luke assured him through the Force.

Anakin nodded, understand some things were better left unsaid until privacy could be attained, and greeted the newcomer.

"Mara Jade," she introduced herself, shaking hands with the older Jedi.

Anakin resisted a smirk at the infamous name, forcing his face to remain calm and controlled, revealing no hint of amusement in it. "Anakin—General Skywalker. I'm the head commander of this base beside Commander Narra and Skywalker of Rogue Squadron. Have you come to join us?" he asked. Many people who arrived unlooked for at one of their bases was generated to be interested in joining their case, though only those with military background were allowed in. Of course this law was sometimes ignore when it came to Anakin recruiting men.

"No," and Mara's voice dismissed all argument. "I've come to retrieve my reward for saving Skywalker's butt."

"I take it you had to aggressively negotiate with Jabba?" this comment was directed at Luke.

He nodded, "We'll have no more trouble from that Hutt."

"You did the Galaxy a good favor," Anakin said to both the young Jedi and smuggler. "But, it's not over yet," he informed them. "I'm afraid, Ms. Jade, I can't allow you to leave the atmosphere quite yet."

"What do you mean _I can't leave_?" Mara demeaned coolly, her voice low and threatening.

But Anakin was not intimidated by her mannerism, he had dealt people—senators and soldiers—like her before. "We were attacked at our Hoth base—which is no more—and returning, they put a homing beacon on one of our ships. I'm afraid this Darth Vader knows we're here, and I get the feeling he's going to make an appearance before long. We're readying for the attack, but I'm afraid you're stuck here, Ms. Jade," he apologetically informed her. "We can't risk ships flying out of-planet in case the enemy saw you. I also don't want you getting in the cross-fire."

"Don't you think my life is in my own hands, _Sir_?" Mara spat out the last word with disdain.

Anakin was not effected or insulted, it took much more than an icily smuggler to get under his stubborn skin. "I understand, ma'am, but it's for the safety of everyone. You can leave as soon as everything calms done."

"_Fine_!"

Anakin resisted the urge to retort, and simply smiled understanding at her. Her eyes smothered, and she spun around, marching back up to her ship, fully intending to stay there until the storm blow over and her permission to leave was granted. Anakin turned away and back to Luke who had stood by, casually leaning against his X-wing, watching the scene with amused eyes and straight face.

"Where did you get that—?" Anakin begun, lowly speaking to his son. But Luke shook his head, indicating silences, and cocked it to one side, wiggling his eyes forward, a sigh Anakin had learned to know something or someone was behind him.

He turned around and froze at the sight he beheld.

His face suddenly paled, the smile falling from his lips, and his eyes glazed over with sudden tears. For a moment, he half expected his keens to give out, forcing him to crumble to the ground in a dead faint, but to his surprise he did not. He did reach out and grab hold of one of the X-wings for some support. He stood there, staring at her, no longer fully aware of anything, anybody, besides her—the person he had never dared dream would return to him. She stride foreword until only a foot of space was between them. She was still shorter than him, now reaching to his shoulder, but her head tails had grown and more then made up for that. Her blue eyes were deeper, and still eager and mischievous. She still had the quick, impatience movements about her that used to remind Anakin so much of himself. That had changed with Luke and later, Leia, who was in so many ways the spitting image of their father—and mother.

"He-hello, Ahsoka," Anakin was barely able to keep his voice from quivering with emotion he was struggling to control.

"Anakin," Ahsoka acknowledged him, her voice had grown too, more womanly.

Suddenly, Anakin knew what he should do; he leaned foreword and wrapped his arms around her, smothering her in a tender, tight embrace. Ahsoka returned the hug, and he felt his tunic grown damp where her tears fell, unable to be detained any longer.

"I missed you, little one," Anakin draw back, and looked once more fully upon his first Padawan apprentice. "Gosh, you've grown!" He exclaimed at last, feeling the need to lighten the mood.

Ahsoka quietly chuckled, "It took you long enough."

"I can't believe it! I barely recognized you."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes dramatically skyward, both knowing he was bending the truth; he would recognize her absolutely anywhere.

"Where've you been all these years?" Anakin asked, leading her back towards the hanger bay as Luke fell in step beside them, curious to know more about this part of his father's life that was rarely spoken, let alone seen. Everyone in the Skywalker family knew of Ahsoka, how she had been Anakin's first apprentice and first love before their mother, Padmé, was assigned to him. Though it was a tender subject rarely brought up, their father had not denied them the truth.

"Here and there," Ahsoka answered, shrugging. "Trying to find myself, I suppose," she quietly added.

"Did you succeed?" Anakin gently probed.

"Yes," was Ahsoka's simple answer. "I see you've changed, Anakin," she nodded her head towards Luke on Anakin's other side.

"Yes, a lot. Luke has a sister, by-the-way, Leia, you'll meet her later.

"And Padmé?" News had apparently reached Ahsoka of all that had happened twenty-three years earlier.

"Still the Representative for the Jedi," Anakin answered as they crossed the hanger bay and begun climbing the stairs up to the first level of the temple. "She's back on Coruscant."

"Is it true that there was a purge to murder all Jedi?" Ahsoka asked as they came to the first level teaming with grouping Rogue members and Clones.

Anakin slowed his long stride and turned to her, eyes drawn with sadness. "I'm afraid there's much to say, Snips. It's a long story—a very long story. I don't have time to tell you, but I will later. Come, I have a meeting with the commanders in several minutes. You are coming, Luke?" he turned to his son who still stride by his side.

Luke nodded, following his father to the command certain at the heart of the temple. Around the display that portrayed the hologram maps of the Sith's Death Star along with the battle plans Anakin and been going over and adjusting to his satisfaction, the commanders and Rogues gathered. Leia stood to one side, and Luke strode to join her. She wore her tan Jedi tunics, discarding her robe, lightsaber and blaster dangling from her belt. Her brown was dun up in thick buns, corralling on either side of her head, elaborate yet simple; Luke could not ever began to fathom how she manage such a style. He took her hand, and gave it a squeeze, smiling down at her fondly. She returned the smile, but he sensed that her attention were elsewhere. He glanced up towards the familiar figure of Command Solo, knowing his sister's discretion was due to him. Han Solo was five years their senior, a sensed smuggler and fighter, he had been discovered by Anakin on a mission to Corellia a few years ago. Impressed by his casual, prideful behavior, worldly swagger and recklessness, yet overall loyal, the two became fast friends, and the Jedi invented him to the Galactic Academy*****. He was rising fast in the military ranks, as well as had quickly become fast friends with the Skywalker family, practically living there with them when he was not otherwise detained. Han and Luke were as close as two brothers, sharing many of the same interests and habit of getting into deep trouble, however, as the years went by, a romantic fascination begun to form between Solo and Leia, however hard the latter tried to denied it. Her Force sensitive parents and brother won't fooled by the arguments the two frequently hand, sensing the sexual, romantic tension between the two.

Catching Luke's glance, Han winked at him and flashed him one of his famous cocky grins before turning away, back to the presentation at hand. The young Jedi followed his example, realizing that the meeting had already commenced.

"These are the plans for the Death Star," Anakin was staying, revealing the hologram map of the planetary battle-station. "Thanks to Commander Solo and his men, we have been able to get them and detect a weakness in the battle-station." He zoomed into the plans, making the images more recognizable to those observing. "Me, Captain Rex, and Commander Narra have formulated a plan to destroy it.

"The battle-station is heavily shielded," Anakin went on to explain, "and carries a fire-power greater than half of our star-fleet. Its defensives are designed around a direct, large scale assault. A small, one-man fighter should be able to penetrate the outer defensive."

Those gathered around the display, nodded, disgusting the plan.

"Pardon me for asking, sir," Wedge spoke up to Anakin, "but want good are snub-fighters going to be against that?"

"Well, Vader does not consider a small, one-man fighter to be any threat," Anakin answered. "Or, they'd have a tighter defensive," he portrayed more detailed images of the battle-station's plans. "An analyses of the plans has demonstrated a weakness in the battle-station. The approach will not be easy; it will require to maneuver straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point," he pointed it with a closer hologram image. "The target area is only two meters wide; it's a small thermal exoss port right below the main port. The shift leads directly to the reactor system, a precise hit will start a change-reaction which should destroy the station. _Only_ a precise hit will set up a change-reaction," Anakin stressed. "The shift is ray-shielded, so you'll have to use proton torpedoes. Commander Skywalker's squadron will make the trench run while I and Commander Narra draw the fire away from him." He closed the hologram connect, letting the images fade away, and stepped back, "Man your ships. May the Force be with us all."

The men stirred and turned away, quickly leaving to prepare their ships for the attack ahead, Luke among them.

"Good luck, and take care, kid," Han thumped him on the back as the Jedi turned to leave the command certain to return to his ship.

"You too," Luke returned.

"You ready, Luke?" Anakin appeared at his side, Artoo dutifully following. "Are you sure you're up to this?" He asked anyway, already guessing his son's reply.

"With you up there with me, of course!" Luke grinned boyishly, suddenly feeling fluttered and eager as if it was his very first battle. It was not, but the excitement of offensively attacking the impossible still thrilled him, but at the same time terrified him to cowardice. He was comforted, however, be the fact that he would not be alone in this mission like before.

"Why don't you get a energy bar while I fire up the ships' engines," Anakin suggested as together they exited the command certain to return to the hanger bay. Luke nodded, taking the suggestion at heart, knowing the dangers of low blood sugar casing lack of good concentration, and left his father and Artoo to prepare the ships and guide the other Rogue members to their stations. As he crossed the hanger to his X-wing were he had a simply of varies health and energy bars and snacks, he caught a glimpse of red-gold hair out of the corner of his eye. He turned his full focus on it, and saw the Mara Jade was standing by, slander body leaning against the ladder up to his X-wing. Luke approached cautiously, wary at her sudden appearance for he had suspected that she would have stay within the safe confinements of her own ship.

"So," Mara pushed herself off of the ladder with graceful swagger, "Off to destroy a Death Star?"

"That's right," Luke nodded, eyes narrowing suspiciously down on her. "Have you got your reward," he couldn't help but let chill into his voice.

"Yeah," Mara shrugged indifferently. "I've got some old debts to pay off with it. Even if I didn't, you don't think I would be foolish enough to stick around here, do you?"

Luke sighed, and tried one last attempt to convict her to stay with them, not for today, but for the future. "Come on," he protested gently, "why don't you take a look around. You know what's about to happen, what we're up against, we could use a good pilot like you. You're turning your back away from sometime great, something better than your life before."

"Maybe," heat edged Mara's voice, and Luke realized he had touched something painful, disturbing in her. "But what's good the reward if you ain't around to us it? Beside; attacking that battle-station isn't my idea of courage, more like—suicide."

Luke nodded, understand perfectly well, too well for his taste. "Alright," he excepted her words, "but, take care of yourself. I guess it's want your best at, isn't it?" He turned coolly away from her, and climbed up the ladder to the cockpit of his X-wing, more than ready and willing to get anyway from her.

***The Imperial Academy **


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

"Are you in?" Anakin's voiced reached Luke through the comlink as he secured his helmet in placed and run a knowing hand over the controls.

"Yes," Luke's voice was slightly irritable on its edges, casing a spark of concern from his father through the Force. _I'm fine,_ he assured him gently, letting a bit of his annoyance go, replaced by soothing waves of calm from the Force.

_ No, you're not,_ his father knew him all too well. _Don't let it discrete you, we'll chat later. _

"I look foreword to that," Luke said aloud, through the com system that connected the ships. He readied his X-wing, Artoo helping occasionally, then started the engines as those filling the gas tanks hurriedly unpledged the pipes from them, making way for them to depart. He engaged the engines, and carefully steered his ship out of the hanger bay, following— and followed—by the rest of the squadron. He continued to check the controls, making absolute certainty that everything was running and working smoothly. His X-wing had seen many missions and battles, but it was not the most recent model, of course it was not as old as his father's interceptor which was practically as old as Luke himself. _ How_ that fighter could still run, let along fly, was behind the Jedi's understanding, but with consent oil-changes and what not—not to mention a lot of love and luck—it was still running and working…for now.

Luke elevated his ship, and flew out of the temple hanger, closely followed by the remainder of the team. He surpassed a smile upon seeing the battered, yellow interceptor flown by the middle-aged Jedi, it was no time for amusement. He lapsed back into seriousness, and turned his full focus on the task at hand, drawing on the Force for guidance. His closed eyes for a split seconds, giving a quick prayers to any gods listening that all would be over—or better or worst—soon. He reopened them quickly, and steered the ship out of Yavin's atmosphere into the black, star-streaked world above, he looked over the controls once more with a knowing eye, then checked into the com connection linking the squadron together.

"All wings report in," he ordered through the com.

The reports from the other pilots quickly came in, one after the other.

"Red Ten standing by."

"Red Seven standing by."

"Red Three standing by."

"Red Six standing by," Wes Janson reported boredly.

"Red Two standing by," reported Wedge.

"Red Eleven standing by."

And the list continued to completion. After all pilots had reported to Luke, he turned to his father.

"Red Squadron standing by," he reported in.

"You know what to do," Anakin replied.

Luke nodded, though his father couldn't see it. "Lock ass-spoilers in attack position," he ordered his men. "We're passing through the magnetic field," he explained as soon as they had readied their ships. "Hold tight, boys. Turn your deflections on double front." They complied, and he held his steering tightly as they were shakily drawn foreword towards the looming Death Star. Luke looked up from his controls, and frowned slightly upon seeing the deadly battle-station. It was the size of an average moon, metal plated and impenetrable save for the one small weakness, its superlaser turning slowly towards Yavin 4, the intent of those onboard all too clear.

"Look at the size of that thing!" Wedge exclaimed in disbelief. It was one thing to see holograms of the lethal weapon, it was quite another to be opposing it on the offensive.

"Cut the chatter, Red Two," Luke said roughly; they had no time for humor, however badly he felt the mood needed to be lifted. "Accelerate to attack speed." He heightened his X-wing's power as they quickly advanced on the enemy battle-station.

"This is it, boys," Anakin said through the com.

"Red Leader to Gold Leader," Luke reported to Anakin. "We're starting on the target shift now."

"We in position," Anakin replied. "I'm going to cut across the axes and try to draw their fire. This is where the fun begins," he grinned boyishly, enthusiastic for the impending attack. "You ready, Narra?"

"Yes, commander," and the two ships varied off to the right, drawing the enemy fire away from Luke's team. Several of the other X-wings went with them, guarding their exposed flanks, and firing at the enemy cannons, destroying them in fiery explosions.

"Heavy fire ahead, commander, twenty-three degrees," Wedged warned Anakin, protecting his the back of the interceptor.

"I see it," Anakin steered his ship away from the shots, and blasted the cannon into nothingness with several swift shots.

"Stay low, boys," Luke advised his team as they came around one side of the station for another pass. "Alright, I'm going in," and he steered his ship downwards, attacking the enemy cannon, destroying it with a final shot. He pulled up just in time, calmly, but quickly, smoke and fried metal swirling in his nostrils. "That was too close," he rebuked himself in a low murmur.

"Luke, are you are right?" Was asked worriedly, flying up beside him a short second later.

"I got a little cooked, but I'm okay," he assured the other pilot, rejoining him for another pass. "Brace yourself," Luke said through the com to those with him, "there's a lot of fire coming from the right side of that deflection tower."

"I'm on it. I'm going in," said Wes, steering his ship towards the said tower. "Cover me, Porkins."

"I'm right with you, Red Six," said the pilot whose nicknamed described him to a perfect extreme. Together, the two ships attacked the tower, destroying it within seconds before pulling up and retreating to a safer altitude.

"I've got a problem here," Luke heard Porkins report worriedly. He stole a swift glance to one side, and saw the pilot's ship veering dangerously downwards, swaying back and forth as if damaged in some way.

"Eject," Wes commanded.

"I can hold it," Porkins protested.

"Pull up!" Luke ordered, suddenly fearing the worst.

"No," Porkins argued, trying to maintain his ship's control, "I'm all—Aargh!" It was too late, his ship exploded in bright fire and crashed on the surface of the battle-station.

Luke glanced down at all that was left of the ship, and sighed, turning his eyes back up and steering his ship downwards, bombarded the cannons at the surface. They exploded as he flew past, glancing behind to see if his flank was covered by another Rogue.

"Squad leaders," a message came through the com from the command center at the Grand Temple at Yavin 4's surface below. "We've pick up a now group of singles. Enemy fighters coming your way."

Anakin sighed, steering his small ship swiftly between the enemy fire, before firing at it, demolish it at last. He pulled up and gracefully maneuvered his ship over Narra's, protecting the ship's side closest to the station's surface. He'd had an foreboding feeling that the enemy would not let them go too easily.

"My scope's negative," Luke informed them through the com connection. "I don't see anything."

"Pick up your visual scanning," Anakin suggested as he continued to rain fire along the surface of the battle-station. "Here they come."

Six TIE fighters flow in up and over them, baring down upon several of the squadron with deadly intent, raining fire upon them with accurate results.

"Watch it, you've got one on your tail," Luke informed one of the pilots at one side. A TIE fighter fired at him, and the ship crashed within milliseconds of being hit. "You picked one up, watch it," Luke told Wedge up ahead of him.

"I can't see him," Wedge informed him through the com, as he tried to steer away to get a better view on the enemy fighter. "He's on me tight, I can't shank him."

"I'll be right there," Luke answered, turning his ship deftly over and boosting the speed so that he was close behind the TIE fighter assaulting Wedge in several short seconds. As soon as the enemy fighter was within shot, Luke perished down on the controls, and fired at the ship.

"Pull in, Luke, pull in," Anakin urged his son seeing how close he was skimming the station's surface.

"Watch you back, Boss," Wedge informed him, seeing several of the TIE fighters veer off in his direction. One approached him and began firing at the X-wing, hitting one of the top wings, casing Luke to momentarily lose control of the delicate steering and fly sharply downwards. He speedily garbed hold of the steering controls again, and pulled up just in time due to his quick Jedi reflexes, and breathed a short sigh of relief as he saw his father destroy the TIE fighter following him.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, then squirmed slightly in his seat, realizing he had just said something too casual across the public com connection. It did not matter, there was no longer any more time to think on one particular thing for very long.

"No probably, Luke," came Anakin's overly cheery reply. He was enjoying this battle enormously, he had not been in a very good fight since the Battle of Coruscant nearly twenty-three years again, so the pleasure of flying so high, so recklessly amused him to no end, and made him feel a bitter younger than before.

"Red Six can you see Red Leader?" Narra's asked the said pilot.

"There's a heavy fire zone on this side," reported Red Six. "Red Leader, where are you?"

"I can't shake him," Luke informed them, swerving slightly as he realizing he had yet another TIE fighter on his back flank.

"I'm on him, Luke," Wedge answered, quickly coming to his aid and bombing the fighter as Luke flew under him. He pulled up out of the smoke, and steered his ship around, parallel to Luke as he quickly scanned over the controls, making certain everything was okay enough to continue the mission.

"Luke," Anakin informed him gravely over the com. "We can't hold them off for very long. We're losing men. You need to start the run _now._"

"Gold Leader," Narra informed Anakin, "I'm hit, I need to get back to base."

"Go ahead, Narra," Anakin granted him permission to leave. "You can't to do any more good back there. Get out of range before your killed."

Narra's ship veered off to right as he turned his ship around and retreated back towards Yavin.

Three more ships were annulated off to Luke's left side, spinning down to crash upon the surface. He sighed, knowing he would be the only one left to make the trench run.

"Red boys, this is Red Leader," he informed them. "I'm going in, Wedge cover for me. The rest of you, keep those TIE fighters distracted with Gold Leader." Luke steered his ship sharply downwards, and entered the trench run, warily looking about him for any sigh of advancing enemy fighters. "Okay, Wedge, let's close it up. We're going in—in full throttle, that ought to keep those fighters off our back."

"Right with you, Boss," answered Wedge, flying close behind him as they entered the trench, and prepared for the run.

"Luke, at the speed, will you be able to pull out in time?" one of the remaining pilot's asked concernedly.

"Yes," Luke answered, securing the controls for the run. He swerved from the cannon fire that bombarded them, trying to destroy them before they could continue down the shift, and flew into the trench, narrowly missing chasing along its far wall. "Watch yourself," he informed Wedge and the other pilot following him as fire rained down on them from a tower at the battle-station's surface, "increase speed full throttle."

"What about that tower?" Wedge asked.

"Your worry about those fighters, I'll worry about the tower." Luke bent all his concentration on increasing his ship's speeded, and smoothly flew down the trench shift.

"Fighters, coming in," Wedge reported, "point three."

Luke kept his concentration on steering his ship down the shift, his lower arm muscles tensed as he tried to remain complete in control of his ship. His eyes ached as he leaned forward slightly in his seat, peering ahead for the hole in which the missiles could go down through to destroy the battle-station. One of the covering pilot's ships went down, destroyed by the advancing fighters.

"I'm hit," Wedge informed Luke. "I can't stay with you."

"Get clear, Wedge, you can't do much good back there."

"Sorry," Wedge pulled up his ship and flew out from the trench shift, Anakin covering him from the remaining TIE fighters.

Luke was alone with three enemy fighters behind him. He was almost at the trench's end, he could feel it. "Artoo, try to increase the power," he asked the droid who was busily keeping the ship intact.

Artoo tweeped in reply, and tried to do as requested. Luke stole a quick glance over his shoulder, noting how the enemy was rapidly advancing on him. He turned back, increasing the ship's speed with Artoo's modifications. For a moment, he debated whether or not to turn on his computer for that one final shot, but the struggle was lost before it even had time to begun. He turned away, trusting all of his life and luck into the Force, and gripped the steering controls tighter with his gloved hands.

He was almost to the trenches end.

The leading TIE fighter shot at him, narrowly messing his back engines, and fired at him again.

"Poodoo," he swore his father's favorite Huttese curse under his breath. "I lost Artoo," he explained through the com connection.

No one answered, too busying with the advancing enemy to reply.

Luke turned all his focus on the last few meters down the trench, drawing on the Force for strength and peace. He excepted the fact that if he was to die—or live again to see another day—it was the fate of the Force. He had always known he had little to no control over his own destiny, only the greater power that flowed freely through his veins did. The lead fighter fired at him, but it missed as it itself was destroy with one swift shot from above. The two remaining fighters swerved and spun, crashing and exploding against the trench wall. Luke looked briefly up, his eyes widening as he saw a familiar ship dive towards him and destroy two more enemy fighters that suddenly appeared. He did not even what to know how she had come to be there, or why, but all would undoubtedly be explained in time.

"Wha—" Anakin begun to exclaim, but his concentration swayed as he caught sight of a fighter spinning off out of the control out of the trench below. He hit the accelerate and fired at the enemy without delay, destroy it once and far all.

"You're all clear, flyboy," a warily familiar voice resounded over the com.

Luke fired at the end of the trenched, and pulled sharply up as the missiles accurately went down. He steered to the right and swiftly rejoined the rest of the group, now much smaller than it had originally been not many minutes ago.

The Death Star exploded, raining brilliantly colored ash—like stars—over the sky.

"Great shot, son!" Anakin congratulated Luke. "That was one in a million."

Luke did not reply, suddenly too tense and tired to care any more, he just breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled at the opportunity that Mara had given him.

The returning retreat to Yavin 4 was done in quick succession, and before he had too much time to think about what had happened, Luke found he had landed, and climbed eagerly out of the cockpit. He jumped the last few feet to the ground, right in the arms of his father and the other Rogue pilots that clustered around him, thumping him on the back and hugging him in manly embrace, congratulating him with hearty words. Among the din, Luke heard his sister's voice call out to him, and he swiftly turned around, catching her in his arms as she hurriedly pushed through the crowds.

"I know you could do, I just knew it!" Leia exclaimed breathlessly, pulling back from his embrace and looking up at him with a happily relieved smile.

Luke returned it, then looked up as Han stepped forth from the congregation, and welcomed him in turn.

"Great shot, kid," he clasped the young Jedi's hand in a hearty shake.

Luke nodded, but his attention had swayed from his victory, his gaze suddenly caught by the person who had given him the chance to destroy the Death Star. She meld around the outskirts of the crowd, pride head held upright, yet eyes downcast in awkwardness, abounded and annoyed by the majority of those gathered, her long hair obscuring her vision and embarrassment in a wavy curtain. Luke felt a pang of guilt and pity shot through him, and his heart suddenly became enormously heavy with the realization that here he was, getting all the glory and fame, when in face she deserved most of the same honor. He pushed himself out of the crowd, surpassing a grimace as it thickened as more and more people arrived to congratulate him on the hard-earned victory. At last he was free from their embrace, but, looking around this way and that, he found that Mara was no longer there. For a moment, the young Jedi was confused as to where she might have gone, then remembering her ship, he begun to walk hurriedly towards it, utterly oblivious of the curious eyes that followed him.

Anakin gave a grim smile, letting it slip quickly away from his lips as soon as it appeared. He felt Luke's sudden concern and slight panic through their bond, and knew the case of it all, but he said nothing, keeping the mental note to speak with his son later on the matter, and turned away.

_Where is he going?_ Leia's soft mental voice asked Anakin.

_To get someone,_ Anakin gave her a hard glance, indicating silence. _ Everything will be told in time._

Leia nodded, excepting her father's word for the present.

Luke strode to the Mara's ship, _The_ _Millennium Falcon, _and bounded up the gangplank in several short leaps. As he entered the ship, he suddenly slowed, wandering if he should risk continuing after her, but… If he did not, he knew he would regret not having taking this chance for the rest of his life. There was something about Mara—he couldn't quite pin it down—but he sensed that it was something special both about her, but especially between them. It was something he had never felt before from any other individual, a magnet they somehow drew them together—or at least drew him towards her. He felt it was deeper than the Force, yet induced by it. He did not yet know what it was, or what end it would lead, but all he knew as that she had to stay. If she didn't—he had the feeling his life would never be the same and would end abruptly in a drastic way.

Luke stirred and walked slowly, uncertainly, down the hall towards the cockpit of the ship, not noticing its roughed enterer or the crates of supplies and space lining the walls. He took a step into the cockpit, a hand on the doorpost, and hesitated, looking around inside. Its walls were lined with numerous control buttons and panels, four high-backed swerving seats lined along the wall, facing the round windows that over looked the platform. Luke peered up and looked out them, seeing the crowd of pilots, work-crews and commanders that gathered around, telling stories and swapping jokes, his father and sister among them. His eyes within back inside the cockpit, and settled on the person in the pilot's seat. Her back was turned from him, eyes looking out over the crowd, hands on the dashboard ready to make settle the code to make the jump to outer space.

Luke took a wary step inside, and slowly, cautiously, approached her. He stopped himself in the middle of the cockpit, and quietly cleared his throat. Admittedly, she whirled around in her chair, eyes ablaze, a sleeve-gun in her hand instantly pointed at the intruder. Luke raised his hands, summiting surrender. Their eyes met, and Mara lowered the short-range gun, though did not entirely let go of it. Jedi wondered briefly where she concealed it, but then decided he did not want to investigate that matter further, some things were better left unsaid and unknown.

"You are leaving then?" Luke finally asked, lowing his hands into a more relaxed position at his sides.

"Yes, that's right," the cold had crept back into Mara's voice.

Luke surpassed a sigh, then asked, before his courage could possible fail him—if that was possible after all he'd been through, he did have doubts when in Mara's presences. "Where are you going?"

"I told, I have some debts to pay off," Mara said, and there was impatience and annoyance now in her voice. "I need to go Besper to see an…_old friend_. I'm not going to hang around here longer than necessary, it seems I'm not wanted."

"Mara—" Luke begun, but he was interrupted by a chilly stare and snap from said smuggler.

"Don't you dare try to convict me to stay, _Skywalker_! I'm going, and that's the end of it. Keep your Jedi religion ethics to yourself!"

"_Mara_," Luke's voice went abruptly cool and low, that was another thing he noticed about this woman before him, she was one of the very few—if not the _only_—person that could drive all his patience from him in short succession. He disliked the feeling, but sometimes you had to be hard with hardened people. "I'm not asking you to be a Jedi," _yet_, he mental thought. "I want you to stay. You're a good pilot—one of the best—and we could use you. The Death Star may be destroyed, but that doesn't mean Vader's dead or this war is over."

"What?!" Mara's eyes smothered at this new, utter unexpected statement. "Are you tell me you _don't know_ if he was on that battle-station?"

Luke shrugged, wishing he could seat down, but not darning to do so because of Mara's unexpected temperament. He ran a hand along his lightsaber—not remembering having picked it up off his utility belt, and sighed.

"We hoped," he confessed. "From the very start, but…. We don't know, not for sure."

"Damn, Skywalker," Mara shook her head, both exasperated and surprised at the young Jedi. "Of all the things I excepted, I didn't this. I thought that was the whole reason you were going up there, to kill off this Sith."

"Yes—" Luke's voice drifted away as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He felt his legs go limp, and he stumbled over to the nearest chair and sat down with a sigh, closing his eyes, he had not slept good in over twenty-four hours, and the toil was baring down on him.

"I hoped you could stay," Luke found himself confessing to Mara. "But—I understand if you can't. The life we led isn't the best and isn't for everyone."

"Nor the life of a smuggler," Mara added. "Maybe…" she mused slowly. "Maybe I do need a change. Maybe I've been a smuggler too long." She grew silent, considering the possibility. "Maybe I do need to change for a bit." Luke felt her get up from her chair and approach him. He opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"Alright, flyboy," she said matter-of-factly. "You've convicted me. But I'm not in this for your crusade or you, Sith-shit no. I'm going help you're little rebellion, but when I'm done, I'm done, got it?"

Luke nodded, and stood stiffly up, "I got it."

"Good," Mara sat back on her heels and crossed her arms, satisfied. "Now, led on, Jedi."

"Luke, my name is _Luke_," he corrected her.

"You haven't deserved that yet," she retorted.

Luke gave her a hard glance, then turned away and departed from the cockpit to rejoin the others, Mara closely following him. He suddenly wondered if it had been very wise of him to urge her to stay, after all she was a smuggler, and such a breed was typical of attracting trouble. But, he would trust in the Force and excepted where it led him.

* * *

The next day, after the memorable services held in the honor of all those who had dead in the battle above Yavin, a medial ceremony was held to honor the ones destroyed the fatal Death Star. Luke and Mara walked down the isle, the former grubbed in a yellow jacket over black pants and tunic, his Jedi finery elsewhere, the latter in a leathery black jumpsuit that clung to the carves of her body, a dark velvety blue jacket clasped by silver broaches over top. They approached the dais in the Grand Audience Chamber where all the Rogue and Clone commanders gathered and stood. Anakin, eyes twinkling with his typical youthful verger and mischief, gave them the medals of honor and heroics, finishing with a quick handshake to each and several private words of praise. He smiled fondly as the two turned slowly around to face the audience of Clones and Rogue pilots who cheered and applauded as they appeared. Soon they would be recalled to Coruscant, but now they deserved their brief victoriously moment and the honor bestowed upon them. Anakin's smile faltered, and for a moment he wondered why as he clapped along with the others; there was suddenly a small quiver in the Force, a disturbance the likes of which he had not felt in twenty-three years, and he realized that this was not the end, but the beginning of something deeper, darker, than they had yet comprehended.


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

_One standard week later: _

"Are you sure this is very wise?" Anakin asked, falling in step beside his son as they descended the steps of one of the many cavernous halls in the Jedi Temple. They had returned to Coruscant two days before, recalled from Yavin by the Council on important issues regarding the present state of the declining war. After the battle above the forest moon, they had had no more uprisings from the Sith, nor had heard anything more regarding his presence—provided he had died on the Death Star—and it seemed in all appearances that the war was over, something the New Republic Government was anxious to declare. But appearances were notoriously deceiving, and not all the Jedi were certain of the Sith's death, thus making them reluctant to pronounce peace. This doubt was increased more-so when Anakin grudgingly informed the Council his foreboding feelings of deceit that very afternoon. He'd confessed to all he had felt a disturbance in the Force, something many of the Jedi present started at, for most had sensed nothing.

"Are you sure you're feelings on this matter are clear?" Master Plo Koon had asked Anakin after his reluctant confession.

"Yes," the middle-aged Jedi had answered without pause, "I have mediated, and they are clear. My foreboding grows with each passing day. I fear, Masters, we were deceived, and the Sith somehow escaped."

The Council members had looked at each other, searching for truth and understanding from the Force under their worried brows. They had disgusted the matter lengthily, debating and pondering this new information Anakin had revealed to them. Only Yoda had remind still through the session, eyes closed, mind mediating and examining with the Force. Luke, too, had remained mostly sober and silent throughout the affair, as he had already felt his father's anxieties and knew their case. Though he himself was greatly troubled by the account that the Sith may yet still be alive, his thoughts persisted to drift elsewhere, and he'd slowly sank in deep thought.

After the Battle of Yavin 4, Luke had begun to reconsider his future with more and more honestly, particularly concerning the Jedi and his own rule within the Order. He was one of the greatest Jedi alive, beside his own father and Yoda, his midichlorian count was high, second only to Anakin, and he had a strong, deep tie with the Force. He was one of the youngest masters, having been confirmed to the Jedi Council soon after his knighthood two years earlier, and was a well respected member; his advanced maturity and understanding wisdom greatly valued. Yet, he had not yet dared to take an apprentice to train under him, a typically trait for a valuable master and Jedi Knight to do. At first it had been the understandable excuse that he was unready for the responsibility, having only just completed his own grueling training, then with the impending presence of the war with a new Sith Lord, he'd had excuse enough. But now… Luke found himself suddenly beginning to consider the possibility of his own Padawan learner. He had just now mentioned his formulating idea to his father, still reluctant to reveal his interest to the Council quiet yet.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Anakin was asking again as father and son strode the lofty hall to the wall-length windows that overlooked the city below. Soft golden sunlight filtered in over them, bathing them in warm rays. Soon it would be sundown—one of the numerous brilliant sunsets so common to Coruscant—and dark night shadows would fall in place of the sunlight.

Luke closed his eyes, leaning in back against the pillars of warm sand-stone, basking in the warmth and relaxation the sun provided after hours of stressful classes, tedious Council meetings, and hard practice sparring.

"Yes," his quiet, composed voice denied any argument or uncertainty. He had made his decision, and he would not step down from it. He felt his father consider questioning his judgment through their bond, but Anakin simply shrugged and turned away to let his eyes' gaze out over the city-planet.

"Very well," Anakin accepted the truth of the matter. "But it is a huge responsibility, Luke, and one you should not carry lightly."

"I know, Father," Luke assured with serious understanding.

"Have you chosen your apprentice yet?"

"No, I have honestly not given it much thought, but I will mediate and see what the Force brings me."

"Chose wisely, son," Anakin softly advised. "You will both be bond for life, and I have no desire to see you hurt unnecessarily."

"I understand," Luke nodded solemnly.

"I'm very pride of you, Luke," said Anakin clasping his son's broad shoulders. "Do not be ashamed to come to me, or Obi-wan or Yoda, for advice; that is want we're here for."

"I know," said Luke, "and I will come."

Anakin smiled, and was on the edge of returning a tender comment of affection and advisement when suddenly sharp pain pinged deeply in his heart. He hissed as his senses were flooded with vibrating evil and disturbance through the Force, his normally composed form bending as if under a heavy burden of unfathomable weight. He staggered to one side, saved from falling completely by Luke who quickly reach out and wrapped an arm around him, leading him across to a nearby bench.

"Father, are you alright?" Luke asked, worry itched over his brows as he felt pain and confusion through the Force from his father, the disturbance was great and prominent now through to him.

Anakin opened his eyes and looking slowly up at his son, trying to regain some of his lost composer, taking several lone, deep breaths to steady his pounding heart. "I…don't know," he haltingly begun, then saw Luke's pale, fearful face. "You sensed it too?"

Luke nodded and stumbled down to set beside him, letting his head collapse to his hands. "So…much pain, evil," he murmured through dry lips. "Something's terribly wrong."

Anakin nodded his agreement, and reached a hand up to rub his aching heart, he felt suddenly sick with a cold sweat and weary, and old, suddenly stiff in the joints and slow in the thoughts.

"I will stay here," he said at length as Luke gradually recovered from the disturbing shock, and raised his head to look at his father. "The Council must be told."

"I will come," Luke rose slowly to his feet, swaying slight so that he had to reach out and grip the pillar of stone with a hand to support his instability.

"No," Anakin's voice was un-debatable. "Go home, Luke, and rest, there is no need for you to stay. I will be fine," he assured him gently.

Luke hesitated to leave his father in such a precarious state of uneasy, but knew he spoke truly, there was absolutely nothing he could do presently, it would be an impractical waste of time and rest. He looked long at his father, as if engraving the image into his memory, as if it were the last time he might look fully upon the older man. Then he turned away, a dull ache of anxiety and worry rising in his tight throat, his heart reproached him for leaving, but there was nothing he could do that had not already been done.

Luke left without another word, unable to coherently construct one.

Anakin gazed after him, a sad frown forming unto his lips, he gulped behind the large limp of guilt and sorrow that he found had suddenly formed, he could feel his son's anxiety, confusion, and regretful acceptance of the situation. He could feel his son's need to understand and stand by his father's side, Anakin felt that same need. A sigh escaped the aging Jedi as he stiffly, awkwardly rose from the bench to his feet. Slowly, gingerly, feeling his way through the gloom that rapidly gathered in the hall as the sun sank lower in the sky, he made his way back towards the Council Chamber.

* * *

Luke descended the stairs of the Temple's main entrance. Stepping down from the last step, he turned away from the line of parked speeders nearby, he desired rather to walk the several blocks to 500 Republica then drive, it provided him time to think, as well as the necessary distractions once he wearied of thought. He strode alone along the walkways of Coruscant's finer discrete, ignoring the numerous glances stolen in his direction; a single Jedi was not an uncommon sight amidst the city ways, but it was still considered by some a rare, special sight nonetheless. Luke shivered as the sharply cool wind brushed against his flushed face, glad for the welcoming change in temperature, but ready and willing to get warm indoors despite it. He was glad he had put on his black wool outer tunic and robe, the days were gradually shortening and the temperature was dropping to a slightly discomforting degree on the planet. With the wind, his thoughts begun to dissolve until he was no longer think about anything in particular, but simply bask in the sights and smells of a city readying for night.

Luke had turned a corner, and was within sight of the tower his mother's luxury apartment was on, when his keen ears caught the sound of a speeder slowly approaching behind him. He turned his head to one side to see who had stopped, hoping it was not a bounty hunter or abductor out for a wealthy catch, and found instead the driver to be none other than Mara Jade, the smuggler he had saved from Jabba. She had kept her promise to stay with them on Yavin, and had yet made any indication of leaving. Not twenty-four hours into her abrupt decision to stay, everyone had learned two valuable lessons concerning her: one, she did not put up with kriffing poodoo of any sort, shape or size; two, she was always in command no matter what, and would feel free to get that point across in any means necessary. Luke's father, Anakin, had quickly gathered great respect of her and her privacy, they worked well together as occasion called for it, both questioning each other's judgment, both sharing much of the same personality and temperament.

"Well, hello there?" Mara acknowledged Luke as he stopped and turned to see her as she pulled up a new, flashy yellow speeder, a hint of civilness edging her voice in place of it usual sarcasm.

"Hello, Jade," Luke greeted her with a soft nod of the head as he approached the speeder. "I wasn't expecting you here," he ran an eye over the speeder, admiring a good vehicle of a slink clean shape.

Mara shrugged, "I was just out for a stiff drink."

"A long day," it was more of a passing comment than a question.

"Yeah, had to clean my ship, secure my shipment for transport to Mandalore next week, and transmit some files to the Galactic Academy."

Luke could not prevent himself from raising an eyebrow at this. "I don't know you were interested in attending the Academy."

Mara sighed and shrugged her shoulders again, "Yeah, well, there's several classes I'm interested in, but I'm not staying too long, I still have this shipment to take care of."

"I understand," Luke was in no mood to argue with the woman, he was exhausted—weary—physically but especially mentally, and all he desired was short civil conversation.

"Hi, you okay?" Mara asked with worry sipping into her voice despite her failed attempts to remain indifferent to the Jedi's cares.

Luke looked up at her, suddenly realized at she had felt his remorse and aching through the Force. "It's been a long day," he straightened his shoulders and stood from his former bent position. "I…must go."

"I'm offering a ride if you want?" Mara suddenly proposed—almost kindly, Luke noticed. He felt a smile threaten his lips, but surpassed the urge to let it show, and nodded.

"Alright," He walked around the back engines of the speeder, and slipped into the passenger's seat with a courtly "Thank you," to Mara. If she noticed, she gave no indication, and stepped on the gas, daftly and carefully driving the speeder towards the designation of 500 Republica and the Senate Apartment Complex where the Skywalker family lived at on the top floors. Mara gently spiraled up the tower complex, landing the speeder up against the veranda stones. Luke leapt out of the speeder, but did not turn away to enter the apartment. Instead, he glanced back to Mara who watched him with even eyes, and asked, "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

Mara raised a sharp brow skyward, and her emerald eyes flashed with fire. "_What?_" she asked through clutched teeth.

Luke shifted his weight from one leg to another slightly, knowing all too well that he was trending a mine field of time ticking detonators. "My mother is making dinner tonight—nothing fancy," he explained. "You're welcome to join us."

"I…don't know…" Mara said awkwardly, "I—"

"My mother would love to meet you," Luke gently probed her to stay, despite the warnings his heart gave him he was running over dangerous territory. "Mother loves meeting new people."

Mara sighed, exasperated, knowing she was cornered, yet strangely unwilling to argue further. "Fine," she practically growled, clambering out of the speeder, waving aside Luke's offered hand to help her out, and striding up the veranda steps behind the young Jedi. She ran a hand through her thick hair, and tugged her tee-shirt down over her casual breeches, regretted briefly having nothing more suitable to wear, then rebuked herself with a mental curse, she did not—would not—care!

"Luke!" his younger sister, Leia, appeared as they entered the living room, and welcomed him with a warm, affectionate hug. She stepped back and seeing Mara, greeted her with a kind smile. She wore a long, baby pink gown that flowed around her craves in soft folds. Her hair, once bonded and braided up, now hung down along the length of her back, a simply braid preventing it from falling into her face.

"Mara Jade," she quickly introduced herself to the other young woman.

"Welcome," said Leia, "I'll take you to our mother, she's in the kitchen." Leia turned to lead Mara away to the other room, then glanced sharply at her older brother who fell in behind them. "You," she pointed her head at Luke, "need to change, dinner will be ready shortly, and Mother wants you to ware your blue casual tonight."

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Something special?"

"Something like that," Leia agreed, and turned away, Mara following, to the apartment kitchen.

It was large and spacious, the natural centerpiece and heart of the house. Cabinets of dark stained oak leaned the walls, producing a homely, cozy feel. Working on the irony brown-flicked counter top, a stately petite woman stood. Sensing their approach, she turned around and greeted them, unsurprised at the sudden approach of another guest.

Mara introduced herself to what she assumed was the Senator Padmé Skywalker. Padmé smiled at her, revealing the same kind-understanding and warm smile her son possessed, a resemblance that slightly unnerved the smuggler. Under her kitchen apron, she wore a low-necked, light greeny-gray gown with puffed sleeves and gathered waistband. A carved wooden pendent on a simple gold chain was the only thing that adored her neck. Her brown hair was swept up in an assortment of buns, yet several troublesome, grey streaked curls fell away to frame her face.

"My husband told me of you," Padmé said after she had greeted Mara. "I'm so glad to finally meet you."

"Likewise," said Mara courtly, yet coolly.

Padmé turned to her young daughter, "Please tell Luke dinner's ready, dear."

Leia skirted hurriedly off, and Padmé motioned Mara over to the dinning table. "Today is Luke's Life-Day," she explained as she and Mara sat down at the table.

"Oh," Mara said, pleasantly surprised. "I didn't know."

"He's turning twenty-four today," Padmé beamed proudly at the knowledge. "I'm so happy he's been able to celebrant it this year."

"I should've gotten him something," Mara found herself mumbling, she was guilty with the knowledge, though she had only known him for week, she still felt he deserved something, after all—however much she desired to deny it—he had saved her life on Tatooine.

"It's alright," Padmé gave Mara a reassuring smile. "You're his friend, and he values your company more than any gift."

"We're not friends," Mara murmured under her breath, but she felt Padmé had heard the comment nonetheless.

"He won't have asked you to come if you weren't," said Padmé logically.

Sith, the Senator had too good of a point for Mara's discomfort. She shifted in her set and turned away to look at something other than the other woman, finding an elegant Alderaan crystal vase to study. Padmé understand, and did not push the conversation, but the tense silence was soon shattered as Leia and Luke appeared from the bedrooms, and sat down beside them at the table.

"Happy Life-Day, Luke," Padmé smiled fondly at him.

A pang of greedy satisfaction shot through Mara when she glanced at him and saw him flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise.

"I—didn't know," he said, flustered that he had forgotten his own birth-day, his thoughts had been so many place and he had been looking far into future than the present, as was his habit.

"You're been very busy, I understand," said Padmé setting a plate of potato salad and fried fish chips before him, she laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment before graceful setting back into her set. Mara noticed the gesture, and a lump suddenly formed in her throat, longing sparking in her chill heart, she could feel the love between them like it was a visible thing, and she was suddenly acutely aware that she had never ever been loved like that. As far and long as she remembered, Mara had always been alone, she had no friends, no family to call her own, no home to return to, she virtually had nothing expect her owe skills and her ship. And suddenly, she found she wanted everything to change, she wanted to have everything she had been denied up till now. Mara resolved that this would happen, sometime, somehow, her life would change. She could feel it.

Luke looked up, and glanced warily at Mara who sat across from him. She turned from his eyes, but he could feel her sensitive through the Force, he felt that she was struggling with sudden emotions she had never expected before. He reached out with the Force, and sent Mara a comforting triangle of kindness, making her know that he was here for her whenever she needed someone to lean on or an ear to hear her. Her strong shields snapped up, pushing him back forcibly with a defiant _Stay out of my head, Skywalker!_ Luke withdraw, and turned his full attention back to his meal and the quiet conversation his sister and mother were having.

"Where is your father?" Padmé looked up at him, worry fusing in her eyes, though her lips still smiled.

Luke's own smile flattered as he was suddenly reminded what had occurred early that evening. He frowned, his appetite abruptly lacking, and leaned back into his chair.

"He—" He hastened, wondering it was wise to tell his mother the truth in front of their guest; he decided it was not, some things were better left to privacy, though he sensed that Mara could guess the truth from the Force. "He had to stay—something came up and he stayed to talk to the Council."

"I see," Padmé's voice was even, cruse, then she nodded, and the smile and light mood returned to the table.

* * *

The meal had been eaten, and the dishes had been cleared and cleaned in the dishwasher unit, when Mara at last felt the need to leave. She rose from the table where she had lingered, unwilling to offer her help, but feeling useless and out of place just setting there nonetheless. She stood, her hand brushing against the hard, cold metal of her lightsaber tucked away under her belt and blouse—she felt uncomfortable wearing it openly since she was not an official Jedi—and remembered something she had forgotten. She turned towards the kitchen, intended to ask after Luke, when the said Jedi himself appeared.

"Luke," Mara's voiced stopped him from proceeded to another room, and he turned back towards her. "I have to talk to you."

He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

Mara looked around, feeling uneasy and vulnerable so near the other family members. Luke picked up her apprehensive, and motioned her away with him back to the veranda. He strode over, and sat down on the nearby sofa, Mara reluctantly joining him.

"They won't disturbed us," Luke explained to Mara, indicating his mother and sister still cleaning away the meal in the other room. "They can feel we want privacy."

"You sister, Leia, is Force sensitive?"

"Yes, and so is my mother, though not as strong as the rest of us. Now, what did you want to talk to be about?" Luke turned his eyes upon Mara, and she shifted slightly, becoming acutely aware of his piecing blue eyes looking over her.

"I…" Her voice drifted away, hesitate to open up to the Jedi. "I want to be trained in the ways of the Force," Mara finally, quietly confessed, her shallow voice barely above a mere murmur, but she knew that he had heard it.

Had she looked, Mara would have caught a strange gleam in Luke's darkened eyes. His hand on his keen gripped the fabric every so slightly as the woman's words swirled around his mind. Suddenly everything became acute clear to him, she—Mara—was the one he wanted to train; she would be his Padawan apprentice. But before he could assure that truth, before he could tell her honestly, he had to know her reasons to be trained as a Jedi.

Luke gulped, and steadied his racing heart, tempering down his rising emotions, then asked, "Why do you want to be trained in the ways of the Force? Why—have you changed your mind?"

Mara sighed, and looked at her hands resting in her lap, "I didn't know. I…I just feel I'm wasting my life with smuggling, I want something more—to be someone more." She looked up at Luke, catching his eyes with hers, and before she could check her words and push them back down her throat, she said, "I want to be _needed_, and I'm not—not now."

"Do—do you want to become a Jedi?" Luke's voice was low and earnest but not probing, not forcing. Mara felt that he would understand if she answered him wrong.

"I don't know. What's it like to be a Jedi?"

"Hard—very hard sometimes. It's not always easy be a Force barer, sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing. Not everyone in the galaxy trusts our idles, and being wrongly accused of anything is sometime you become accustomed to." Luke sighed, "You can become a Jedi, Jade. The Council now allows any with Force sensitive into the Order to be trained as long as they desire. My father has reshaped the Order enormously."

"So I've heard," commented Mara sagely.

"Yes," Luke agreed. "After the Purges, what was lift of the Order decided something had to be done, some things were too dangerous to be kept. My father is reckless, but that habit eventually proved beneficial to the Order. Did you know they did not even allow attachments as Jedi?"

"Yes, something like that," said Mara.

"Many—my parents among them—disagreed with that particular rule." Luke continued slowly, "It wasn't until my parents married, and my father demonstrated the need for love, and _being_ loved, that the rule was abolished."

"Don't you think that with all these rules being taken down, the Jedi will become bold in their actions?" Mara asked concernedly.

"No," Luke answered earnestly. "We are taught the morals of the universe, that there is right and wrong, good and evil, Jedi and Sith; the basics of mortality so many forget. But we are also taught to embrace change, one of the things the Old Order struggled with."

"I see…" Mara's voice drifted away, and she let her eyes wonder until she found herself gazing out the dark city, the trillions of lights blinking in and out like stars in a sea full of shadowed shapes.

"Mara…" Luke murmured, "can I ask you something." She simply nodded for him to continue; he went on in a low voice, "Can you become my apprentice?" He watched her closely with heavy eyes, waiting breathlessly for her answer, and bracing himself and his heart for her expected rejection.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Mara turned her head around to face him, her eyes dark save for a single fire that flashed up now and again behind them, brightening their jewelry green orbs.

"_Why_?" Her voice was low, throaty, but with no ice edging it.

"The Council has daubed me a Master," Luke went on to hurriedly explain before she could make up her mind to refuse him. "Actually, I've been one for the past two years, but haven't yet taken an apprentice. I'm thinking about it now, and was….well, wondering if you wouldn't mind being—well—"

"No," came Mara's quiet answer.

Luke had not heard her, and went on, "—my apprentice…because you are—" he stopped and looked at her sharply, realizing he'd missed her important reply, "What did you say?"

"No, I _won't _mind being your apprentice," Mara answered calmly and coolly.

Luke could barely detain his relief and happiness, surpassing the strong urge to squeeze the breath out of her in a tight embrace. He sprang up despite his mental lecture to control himself, and faced Mara, who had risen beside him. "Mara, I can't—" He begun, but was quickly, abruptly cut off by her.

Mara raised her hands, stopping him, "Don't say it, Skywalker, or I just might change my mind. This is for only a little while, remember, and I'll make no garenteens I'll stay forever—"

"But we'll see where it takes us," Luke interrupted her, beaming boyishly.

"But we'll see where it takes us, yes," Mara agreed, though the Jedi caught her eyes twinkling eagerly despite herself. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go."

"Of course," Luke followed her as she turned away, around, and descended down the veranda steps to her awaiting speeder. She leapt into the driver's set behind the stirring gears, and engaged the engines, readying for takeoff.

"Jade," Luke's close voice stopped her from leaving too soon, and Mara turned to look back at him. "Would you meet me at the Temple tomorrow morning at 0800 hours?"

"Of course," she replied simple, her full lips upturned in a slightly amused smile.

Luke nodded, smiled gladly back at her, and stepped back from the veranda edge as Mara glided the speeder away and down, back towards the lower city. He followed her speeder through the maze of airlines and sparkling lights until it disappeared from view, then the young Jedi turned away with a happy sigh, his former heavy heart lightened and betting with emotions he had never expected before. He mounted the stairs to his room, thoughts roaming wildly, though swirled continuously around one particular woman.

_We are just friends,_ Luke tried to remind himself as the door to his room slid open, and crossed the threshold into it. But sometime in him, a caressing tendril from the Force, begun to make him whether they really were just "_friends_". If the Jedi knew better, he swore he was beginning to feel emotions a friend should never for another

"_Fuck_," Luke murmured unceremoniously, and buried his head in his hands. He realized he just might have made the worst mistake in his whole life with choosing Mara as his apprentice.


	8. Chapter 8

**8  
**

_He was wading through thick murky water, waist high though it was gradually lowering. He was soaked to the skin, his jumpsuit clinging to him like a second skin, and shivered from the cold temperature of the water. He seemed to be looking for something—someone—but could find nothing. He turned his head this way and that, eyes scearching desperately. Finally he caught a glimpse of a heavy object floating down the current towards him. He turned towards it in the water, and gasped out a sob. It was the body of—Mara. He waded towards it, gathered her up and turned her over to face him in his arms; her beautiful face was deadly pale, eyes closed as if in sleep, her neck limp without life, she was dead. Somehow, he struggled out of the water, and found himself keening over her, weeping, salty tears flowing down his cheeks. _

_ "No," he kept repenting through his sobs. "NOooo!" He cried desperately, bowing over her body, clinging to her life-less hand. He felt his heart shatter into tiny crystals, and all he wanted to do was die, become one with the Force then and there, for he no longer felt he had any reason to keep living. _

"No!" A cry tore itself from Luke's throat as he bolted upright in bed. He was shaking uncontrollable over, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, a cold sweat coating along his muscles and dampening his hair. He ran a hand in his hair, ruffling it up and brushing away his bangs, and stood up, breathing deeply. He closed his eyes, regaining some calm quickly, feeling the flow of Force bring peace to the turmoil he felt inside. He reopened them, and bending down, picked up a robe from off the floor and wrapped it around him before making his way to the door. Quietly, he exited the bedroom and entered the dark hall, and descended the small flight of stairs down to the veranda. He did not bother to turn the lights on, he much preferred darkness in his present state of mind. His bare feet brushed against the cool stone and soft carpet as he sat down on an arm of the sofa and looked out across the maze of flickering lights and dark skyscrapers against the night sky.

Luke sighed, and closed his eyes, intending to mediate. What had his dream meant? He had felt full of fear and anxiety, then when he had seen her body, full of profound grief-overwhelming sorrow at her lose, he sensed he had also felt something else—something more. He could not quiet pin-point it, but it was still there, Luke could feel it, he could reach for it, but not yet name it. The name that would reveal the emotion to more clarity was far from his grasp. Luke shook his head, confused and shaken. He folded his hands in his lap, and looked out again at the scenery of skyscrapers and airlines. He could just barely make out the domed top of the Senate Building, then not far from it the five towers that marked the Jedi Temple. The familiar sight comforted him, and he slowly begun to relax. He wondered what time it was, and stole a glance at the nearby chrono on the wall: 0240 hours, dawn was still far off.

"Having trouble sleeping?" His father's gentle voice startled Luke out of his musings, and he turned around to see Anakin's approach. The elder Jedi joined him, and the two gazed out over the city in companionable silence for several pleasant minutes.

Luke felt an explanation for his rising was needed, though he knew his father would never really ask outright for an answer. "I had a dream," he said simple.

He felt his father nodded understandingly beside him. "Bad?"

"Yes," Luke could not deny the fact that it had shaken him to the core.

"What was it about?" Anakin asked ever so gently, though he would not probe harder if he sensed his son had no desired to disgust it with him presently.

"I…don't rightly know," murmured Luke wearily. He sighed, and changed the subject slightly, "How was the Council meeting?"

"They're sending Jedi to all the Clone and NR Navy outposts," Anakin answered, "to make sure there well protected. They're also sending reinforcements to some of the Outer Rim planets in case of sages. I'll be leaving tomorrow for Mon Calamari, I must meet with General Ackbar."

"I wish I could go with you," said Luke, "but I have responsibilities here."

"I take it you've decided on your Padawan, then?"

"Yes… It's Mara Jade." Luke waited for his father's reply, suddenly nervous on how he would react, but if the older Jedi was surprised, he gave no indication but a simple nod of the hand and a flitting glance to his son.

"This Mara…" Anakin murmured, "she's…_interesting._"

"That's a understatement, Dad," Luke observed.

"Undoubtedly," the older Jedi agreed, "but are you sure she's the one?"

"Yes, I've felt it."

Anakin smiled fondly at his young son, catching an unreadable expression of passion and hidden longing cross his face, but all he said was, "Be careful, son. Guard your heart."

Luke turned his head, eyes full of surprise at the statement. His father smiled fondly and clasped his shoulder, "I understand what's it like, Luke—Force knows how much I understand—but I don't want you to jump into this and get yourself hurt like the last time."

"Mara and Callista are two different people," Luke's voice lowered and tightened as he was painfully reminded of the woman that had severally wounded his heart a year before. Callista Masana had been a Jedi Knight alongside Luke, he had greatly admired her for years, an affection that quickly grow to blossoming love, but when a sudden cancer took away her ability to touch the Force, she had refused his marriage proposal. She had left him, abounded by the Force and unable to continue being a Jedi, to wander the galaxy to find her purpose in life. Luke had spent many months searching for her, determined to bring her back, to show her that she still meant something to him at least, but he had never found her. She had briefly returned to the Temple not long ago, but he had found that she had marriage and had had a child of her own. This knowledge had resurfaced the wound, and sharped the feeling that he was not good enough for her. He had told himself it had all been for the best, and in all honesty he was better without her, but it still hurt.

"I'm sorry," Anakin quietly apologized as he felt a flow of stinging pain and guilt wash over to him from Luke.

"No, it's alright," Luke assured him, though his son's voice bagged a drifter from the comment. "I didn't deserve her."

"No, you didn't," Anakin agreed, then added, "and I meant that in a good way. She lied and used you, while you remained honest and loyal. I'm quite sure you'll find the right person eventually."

"I don't know," Luke replied. "Sometimes I wonder if it's in my destiny to marry and have a family."

"It is," his father answered earnestly. "It just might take some time. Patience is a virtue, Luke."

"You know I've never really been too patience, Dad," Luke looked up at him, eyes smiling with a bright light.

"True," a low chuckle escaped Anakin as he was once again reminded how much they really were alike. "But, in this regard, you need to be," he turned sober again.

Luke sighed, and stood up, easing the tensing muscles of his back with a messaging hand. "I must go to bed. I'm meeting Mara at the Temple at 0800." He turned away, and prepared to leave.

"Good night, Luke," Anakin smiled at him in the moonlight.

"Good night…Father."

* * *

The remainder of the night was spent in restless sleep. Luke tossed and turned, finally falling into a light slumber that cased him to awake just as the first rays of the sunlight filtered down and touched the steel plated buildings, lighting them up till they were almost blinding to look at. Luke rose, and stumbled to the fresher before Leia, knowing from too much experience how long it took her to be ready for the day. He turned it on cold, and stepped under the spray. He washed himself down as his mind and body quickly became more and more awake with the chill water. He finished, and dressed in his more casual Jedi attire consisting of a tan and dark brown tunic overlapping with a black vest and belt. His lightsaber dangled familiar and comfortably on his hip, where a small blaster also rode, for Luke, unlike many other Jedis' disdain for the fire-arms, was not hesitate to use it if necessary. He did not put on his cloak, it would be too hot and cumbersome for him to wear today. He retreated from the bedroom, and found his mother and father already seated at the table, starting on a breakfast of grain mush, bacon, and fruit.

His mother looked up, and greeted Luke with sunny smile. "My, you're up early," Padmé commented as she rose and set another bowl and cup down for him as he pulled out a chair and sat.

"I have an early meeting at the Temple," Luke explained, pouring himself a cup of blue bantha milk.

"Your father told me you've already pick your Padawan," Padmé retook her seat with graceful pose. "Who is it?"

"Mara Jade," Luke answered casual, not looking up at his mother since he could sense her reaction through the Force between them. Had he done so, though, he would have caught a flicker of amusement pass between the two older Skywalkers. Padmé's eyes danced, and Anakin's was filled with mischievous knowing and laughter, they could read well between the lines. Anakin brought up his mug of black caf to cover the grin that threatened his face, his eyes flickering between son and wife. Padmé shook her head slightly, and said in the privacy of their bond, behind secured shields that prevented Luke from detecting anything, _You assume too much, Ani._

_ Do I?_ Anakin wiggled his eyebrows, his bright eyes dancing with boyish mischief. _Every time Mara's brought up, Luke reacts differently. _

_ That is absolutely no case for assuming anything between them,_ Padmé replied.

Anakin's eyes dulled, and the smile faded slightly as his wife's logic connected within his brain. He shrugged, giving up the argument, _Alright, you win. But if my guess is true, you own me. _

_What, exactly_? Padmé wanted to know the terms to see if they were agreeable to her.

Anakin cocked his head to one side, thinking up something to the best of his abilities. Then, suddenly remembering, his face broke into a huge grin, and his eyes twinkled as he leaned foreword to Padmé and whispered, "How about that little black number?"

"_Anakin!_" Padmé exclaimed, faking utter horror, though there was amusement edging her voice. She swatted her husband away, though did not put much force into it, and turned away, back to her half-finished meal. She could not prevent herself from glancing at him for a second, and violently blushed at the mention of that certain garment they both enjoyed. She shook her head, smiling despite herself as Anakin's gentle laughter rippled through the Force to her, he remained sober and silent outwardly however.

"Are you two done?" Luke's voice started both his parents back to the present. He had sensed the exchanged between them, but had heard nothing as he gently probed through the Force, both their shields were secured in place blocking his accuse. Not that he really wanted to know what they were saying, it was just out of pure curious because they seemed highly amused by the conversation.

"Yes," his mother answered, rising up from the table to clean away her dishes. "At least _I am._" She gave a pointed look at his father before drifting into the kitchen.

Anakin chuckled then, and backed up his chair, stood up, "Well, I must be off. Ackbar is expecting me soon."

"Say hello to the commander for me," Luke too stood up and made ready to depart to the duties of the day. The Mon Calamari was a close friend and dear mentor to the whole family, having served with Anakin in the battles on Dac during the Clone Wars.

Anakin nodded, keeping a mental note he would relay his son's message on, Ackbar was extremely fond of the younger members of the Skywalker family, having no children of his own, and loved to know that they cared greatly for him in turn. Father and son bide each other farewell, and each turned away, leaving for their individual duties of that day.

* * *

"Is it your habit to walk around?" was the first thing Mara said upon see Luke approach the steps of the Temple's main entrance.

"I can't afford my own speeder," was Luke's simple reply as he greeted the red-haired woman. He noticed she did not wear her typical smuggler's attire or jumpsuit, instead she was clothed in a forest green tunic—similar in style to the Jedi fashions—a brown-leather waist corset and belt with brown leggings and black keen-high boots. Her hair was combed but fell un-styled over her shoulders and down her back; it was the first time Luke had ever seen it so, and he marveled at how long and thick it was.

Mara stood back on her heels, and crossed her arms, eying the Jedi Master almost disdainfully. "So, what, they don't pay you that well?"

"Being a Jedi is more volunteer work than that," Luke explained. "The Government can't afford us big celeries, so we're only given about five-thousand credits a year."

"That's no bad considering," Mara mused.

"No," Luke agreed, "but when you have to keep up your ships, repair there damages, _and _pay for your housing and utilities, it can run out fairly quickly. Besides, Coruscant is one of the most expensive planets to live, and our ships are particularly running full time, so in all honesty, the celery is what my father would say bantha poodoo."

Mara choked and coughed, covering her laugh at the unexpected humor in Luke's words. He stopped walking, and glanced at her, ignorance and puzzlement in his face.

"What?" he asked, totally oblivious to the amusement he had given Mara.

Mara shook her head, finally composer herself enough to answer, "Nothing, but that's the first time I've ever heard you say something humorous."

Luke's lips frowned slightly, but he said nothing in reply, and they resumed their course to the Jedi Temple. Upon entering the vast entrance hall that greeted all who entered it, bathing in blue shadows and warm light from above, Luke was satisfied to catch something akin to a gasp from Mara at his side. He understand her reaction, the Temple never cased to amaze even himself, he loved to study its vastness, gazing up at the skylights and numerous shadows that concealed the towering pillars. He lead her on, through the huge hall then up through the numerous smaller halls and corridors and catacombs that made up the maze of the Temple. Eventually they came to the turbo- lift that would bring them up to the Council Chamber atop of the certain, fifth tower.

Luke stood, hands behind his back, and closed his eyes, sending a quick prayer to the Force for guidance in the meeting ahead of him. He let calm fuse through him, and he breathed deeply, momentary mediating. Mara watched him beside her through lowered eyelids, noticing every muscle of his face, the way his strong, determined jaw relaxed as he mediated. She noticed his long blonde eyelashes, how they flickered slightly with the subconscious movements of the eye underneath. How his long honey-blonde bangs brushed across his forehead as he swayed his head to one side slightly, falling in over his brows and almost onto his lids. Mara's eyes trailed slowly down from face, taken in the flexing muscles of his neck, then his broad shoulders, and gradually down the rest of his body. He was in fine physical shape from the frequent exercise he partook in. Mara felt herself flush noticeably as she caught herself starting at the Jedi. She turned away before he could open his eyes and catch her lingering eyes bursting with passion and womanly desires. She glanced up, finding a nick in the turbo-lift walls to study.

Luke had felt Mara's eyes upon him from the first, but as he deepened himself into the flow of the Force, he gradually became less and less aware of her staring gaze; he became acutely aware of her Force signature, it was flickered in and out like a candle flame, and like a flame it pulsed with black, blue, red and yellow hued lights, the dark and light side of the Force swirling visibly around her. He wondered at the dark spots in her signature, they were deep and dank, locked away far below the surface in obscure cells, and wondered briefly what there case was, it noticeably was a sketchy area of her life-cycle, and he wondered if he could drive it away, distinguish it into oblivion. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he could not, not without her permission and possible help. He gradually withdraw from Mara's signature to some other area in the Force to study and think upon.

The turbo-lift door hissed open, and Luke opened his eyes.

He stepped into the Council Chamber and strode to the its very certain, Mara slowly following him. Upon her appearance, the Council Members that had assembled started and stared, they could sense she was not one of the Order. None of the present Members had met Mara yet, and the mood intensified as Luke brought her forth. He motioned her to step forward, and spoke.

"Masters, I would like you to meet Mara Jade. I want her to become my Padawan apprentice."

Silence greeted his purpose, and all eyes turned on the two of them, for-most upon Mara.

"She is not of the Order," Master Plo Koon commented, not unkindly.

"No," Luke agreed. "But she is Force sensitive, and I believe she has been thought some of the ways of the Force before, though what and from whom, I don't know. I believe I can teach her how to better control and understand the power she possesses."

The Jed Masters studied his words whilst all the time eyeing the woman with him.

"Strong in the Force, she is," Yoda observed quietly, breaking the tensing silence. "But old, older than most Padawans should be, she is. Wise, do you think it is?" He said quizzically at Luke.

"Yes, Master," Luke bowed his head politely, not saying that he might not have the patience to teach a youngling.

"She has potential," Obi-wan commented, "and I think together you and her will make a good team." The ageing Jedi had read much upon observing them, he had seen much emotion in each of their eyes, and it reminded him all too keenly of Anakin and Padmé's first affection for each other. He surpassed a deep sigh, he could just foresee the outcome of this relationship, but perhaps—like Luke's parents—they would sway their destines and save the galaxy from some unknown disaster not yet foreseen.

A hint of a smile surfaced on Luke's lips, "Thank you Master—Uncle."

Obi-wan returned him a soft smile of affection, glad that he was able to remind the other Council members how close he was to the Skywalker family.

"A decision, the Council has made," announced Yoda. "Allow you to train Mara, we do. Wise, your chosen may be. Test her now, you will, see how physically and mental strong she is. May the Force be with you," Yoda finally said, dismissing them.

Luke bowed, Mara reluctantly following suit, realizing that she could quickly become annoyed with that particular ridiculously custom. Together, they turned away from the Jedi, and retreated to the turbo-lift.

* * *

Since that morning, Luke had known he would have test Mara's abilities before he could make a good assumption on how best to continue her training. He decided to test her physical strengths and exertions before anything else, he wanted to see her lightsaber fighting style and how good—or bad—it was. Compared to Jedi born and bred within the Temple walls, undoubted she would not be too good, but he hoped that in the best sense; it would be easier on the both of them for her to learn new techniques. Thus, as soon as the turbo-lift returned to the ground level, he laid Mara to the nearby sparring rooms. They entered one thankfully empty, and Luke turned to his now apprentice at his side.

"I want to see you fight," he said as she looked at him puzzledly. He summoned his lightsaber to his hand, running his figures along the cold metal handle, and braced his legs, keeping them a little ways apart, bending the keens, posing for action. Mara unclasped her own lighstaber from its place on her lift hip, something she did manual Luke noted curiously, and followed suit. He could feel her uncertainty and anxiety bobble up in the Force, though she tired hard to cover it up with impressive shields.

To ease her apprehension, he begun to speak, instructing her. "When fighting a taller opponent you will need to have your arm up before you—eye-level and higher," he demonstrated. "You will always be fighting taller opponents, so you well have to remember this. Bending your keens slightly will gave you some stability and also prop you for any jumps. Feel the Force flow up from your feet before you jump. Now: when you're ready to fight, you half to always remain in balance and in control of your body. I'm going to assign you to some classes that will help your body's balance and flexibility—"

"Can we just get started?" Mara growled, getting impatience.

Luke smiled understandingly, and nodded. The nod was all it took for them to begin.

Luke had fight some of the finest swordsmen and gunmen in his life, opponents with deadly intent who would kill him if one was merely a second off or a second short, but Mara had been the first that he actually had to struggle to hold his own against. It was not that she was particular good—some of her techniques were slopping around the edges, and he noticed her right wrist was weak—but she was fast, as quick as lightening and smooth as a preying cat, her natural flexibility and splint second reactions astounded him. He did not allow that amazement to distract him, however, and gradually as they continued striking and paring blows he pushed her back, weakening her defiance with his attacks. Soon, he had gained the upper hand and he could feel that she was to the breaking point, not only in her strength but her temperament. Boiling angry spoiled from her as he continued to weaken her defending blows, she was violently struggling to gain some foothold in the fight as he quickly pushed her back and back until she felt her back against the hard wall stones. With a quick thrust and flick of his hand that Mara could barely catch sight of, Luke had suddenly disarmed her, the green flames of his lightsaber inches from her throat as she was forced against the wall. Their eyes locked for a splint second—one pledging, the other searching—then Luke closed the weapon and stepped back, breathing heavily. Mara gasped for air, her heart bursting with the exercise, and slid to the floor, her legs unable to properly support her. Luke joined her, and for a long while the only sound they could make, or hear, was their heavy breathing.

"You—fight well," Luke broke the silence and congratulated Mara. "Better than I was expecting," he confused.

"You were…good too," Mara agreed, unable to think up anything else to say. She had never met anyone who fought like the Jedi did, with quiet—almost concealed—determination and pose, each action seemingly thoughtfully considered beforehand. Now that she thought about it, Mara believed she had never met _anyone_, Jedi or not, quiet like Luke, he was refreshingly different from any other person she had ever come across in her life.

"Some of your techniques need a little help, though," Luke leaned forward, and rested his chin upon his up drawn keen, eyes closing to half slits.

Mara looked at him sharply, consider a cool retort, then decided against it, surprisingly she did not have the energy for an argument. "What—needs help?"

"Your right wrist is weak," Luke kindly pointed out. "Your overhead strike is a little slow. Your footing's very good, but you're a little unsure with your right foot. The left foots the lead one, I take it?"

Mara nodded, "Yeah, it is." She was surprised that he noticed all these little details about her, but then again she had only been focused on showing him her best fighting abilities while he had been closely watching her every move.

As if he had heard her very thoughts, Luke said, "The secret to a good swordsmen is knowing who you're going up against, know as much as you possibly can about them, then you will be better able to product their next move. You must consistently be very aware of them, even in the most distracting environments."

"You read my thoughts," Mara said, but not scolding like she otherwise who have done.

"No," Luke smiled, "I just guessed. I had the same thoughts my first day sparring."

"_Soo_," Mara leaned closer to him, curiosity getting the better of her. "How long, exactly, have you been doing this?"

Luke thought for a minute, "My father first begun teaching me the ways of the Force when I was about three, but that was simply meditation and levitating. I first started saberfighting when I was six—seven. I didn't get my really lightsaber until I was ten, then my father took me as his Padawan, and...well, you can guess the rest."

"Is—" Mara hesitated, and glanced down at the Jedi's lightsaber close by.

"No," Luke guessed her thoughts. "This one I made when I was knighted, I won the record for losing no lightsabers when I was a Padawan. Rumors have spread that my father went through _hundreds_ when he was younger. Speaking of which, may I see yours?" He held out his hand to take the weapon that belonged to her. Mara picked it up and handed it to him, she had not grown attached to it for the time she had had it, to her it was a weapon used in the rare sticky situation and not consistently.

Luke studied it, glancing now and again at Mara's hands then back. He inspected it thoroughly, taking it is every detail, then tossed it from hand to hand feeling its weight. Finally he ignited it and studied the color, it was a bright violet purple, a color rarely seen within, or without, the Order, he had only heard of one other Jedi member who possessed a purple saber; that was Mace Windu of the Old Order who had been brutally killed during the Purges. He closed it, and returned it to Mara.

"That wasn't made for you, was it," Luke said as she took it and returned it to its rightful place on her hip.

"No," Mara answered.

"The grip is too big," Luke stated. "Your figures don't wrap around it like they should. I think we might have to adjust some things before long."

Mara nodded, agreeing to his point, and stood up.

* * *

The remainder of that day was spent in a combination of things. First, after they had rested after their sparring, Luke gave Mara a detailed and lengthy tour of the Temple, stopping and introducing her occasionally to other Jedi or younglings. Their final spot was in the medical warden and lab in the midst of the Temple where Luke's friend and physician, Master Cilghal Ackbar, worked. She greeted the Jedi and Mara, and they chatted pleasantly about nothing in particular, the weather, her patients, the present politics. By the time they left to return to the Temple cafeteria, Mara found herself quiet taken in with the gentle Mon Calamari. After a lunch of nerf-stake sandwiches and blue milk, Luke had Mara mediate, and he begun the slow possess of teaching how to connect with the Force for longer, deeper time periods. By the end of the lesson, her body ached and she had received a migraine from the mental probing. She was thoroughly weary, but strangely happy, she knew more now that she ever thought she could, not only about herself and her capabilities, but also about her teacher, Luke.

They descended the Temple steps as the day waned away, the sun slowly setting in fiery rays, but they lingered, both unwilling to leave the other after all the time they had spent together.

"You did well today," Luke quietly commented.

"Thank you," Mara murmured.

And yet they still lingered, shifting from side to side, avoiding their eyes to settle on them for fear something would suddenly happen neither wished to but secretly desired to happen.

"I must go," Luke reluctantly informed Mara. "I will see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Mara answered simply. "I am your apprentice after all."

"Yes…" Luke let his voice drift away with the rising wind, and sighed wearily.

"Good-bye," At last Mara turned away to go, tendrils of hair rising and falling with the wind. Their red-gold brilliance momentary distracted Luke, and he found himself staring at them. He blinked, and suddenly felt an urgent probe from the Force. It was yelling at him to do something—something he never would have dared dream to—and for him to do it quickly. Just as Mara made to go from him, Luke reached out and lightly touched her arm, feeling her scented warmth through his figures from the gentle touch. She started, and turned quickly around to face him, eyes flicker with fire, but before she could snap at him, he hurriedly said.

"Mara—can you have dinner with me…tomorrow night?"

Mara opened her month to loudly, profoundly retort she would do no such thing, when the Force newly exposed to her probed her to reconsider. She thought for a moment, realizing what little harm would come from having a simple dinner with a friend.

"Yes…of course," she answered. "I would love to."

Luke withdraw his hands, and they said no more, then Mara turned away and descended the last stairs, feeling the Jedi's gaze upon her back, her mind in a whirlwind of rising emotions. A simple dinner with a simple friend, that was all Luke was asking, right? Or perhaps, he meant something far more. Mara shook her head, trying to let the confusing thoughts go, but she could not, for she was no longer quiet so sure that they were really "_just friends._"


	9. Chapter 9

9

_The Royale Galaxy _was on of the finest restaurants on the whole planet; with its Nabooian and Alderaan cuisine, its elegant Old Republic interior and setting, it was also naturally one of the most pricy restaurants planet-side. But Luke would have it no other way; running across it on a search of the HoloNet, he instinctively knew it would be the perfect place for his dinner with Mara. He did not know her tastes and likes—dislikes, but something within him, perhaps a tendril from the Force, told him she would be pleasantly surprised when he informed of their reservations. She was, he could feel her exhilaration and shock vibrating through the Force to him. He sensed she had not expected him to take her to a place so expensive and eloquent.

"Skywalker," Luke could see she was trying hard to conceal her surprise and delight over the hologram, her voice slightly strained from the efferent. "Are you sure you can afford _The Royale_? It's almost the price of a new speeder."

"I think I can manage," Luke assured her, humbled by her concern for his credits, and satisfied with how easily she had been caught off guard with that evening's destination, he found he rather enjoyed surprising her.

"Alright," Mara grudgingly gave in. "I just don't want to spend a nice evening eating food we find out we can't afford, _or_ getting arrested by the NR for bank-robbing them."

Luke begun, "That's not going happen—"

"—Famous last words," Mara interrupted him.

"I understand your concern, Jade, but there's really no need for it." He sighed, trying to sway her attention elsewhere other than the price of dinner, "Find something nice to wear—"

"Speaking of which," again Mara interrupted him. "It takes a Dilmoré ball gown to enter. I probably have something that'll work," she frowned slightly, trying to remember, "but you—all I've ever seen you wear is drub. You better come in something better than black _or _brown, Skywalker, or I'm calling this dinner off." She warned coolly. Luke nodded, taking the warning for granted, sensing Mara was more than capable of doing such a deed.

"Meet you there at 1900 hours, then?" Mara nodded her agreement, and Luke cut the hologram connection.

It was evening, and the sound of the busy city night life was increasing with every pasting hour. Luke had arrived at _The Royale,_ and was already seated and waiting for his companion. He checked the chorno at his wrist, she was fashionable late. He sighed as he slumped back into his chair, waiting for the next waiter-droid to come around and ask for more wine. He picked up his already half-empty glass, swirling the remaining contents inside before taking a small sip. He rolled sweet wine over his tongue, enjoying the surprisingly pleasant taste, and swallowed, thinking hard and long. Maybe Mara had had second thoughts, and decided to break the engagement before it was too late. Perhaps she did not sure the same feelings that he had, he did not doubt it, for she had given him himself to think twice about this whole affair. Maybe, it had been a hopelessly lost case from the start. More and more as the minutes slowly pasted, and couples came and went, Luke became convinced that Mara would not appear. As he sat, swirling and casually sipping the wine in his glass, he begun to take into consideration the fact that maybe it was not his destiny to marry and produce a family of his own. His first doubts had come when Callista had broken their relationship and shattered his heart. For many weeks, all that he'd felt was guilt and overbearing failure; the only thing that had cased him to survive was his parent's ever present understand and comfort. They had given him the space he had needed to heal, Anakin occasionally sending him off-planet on missions that would require either his full concentration or isolation from other individuals. He was very thankful for those opportunities, as they had changed his life dramatically over a short period of time.

Now, Luke wandered what was in store for him, what the Force wanted him to do as his life's work. Was it his destiny to live a life protecting others so that they could live in peace and prosperity while he struggled with invaders and the Dark Side? Or, was there something else that he could not yet see or understand? He shook his head to clear away the confusion, and somehow with the motion, the images he had long forgotten appeared, a reminder of the dream he had had not two days earlier. He had meant to mediate on it, but the thought had been pushed aside with training Mara. He could see the images now, as clear as if was really happening before him, he could feel his emotions rise within him as if he were really feeling them. The images sped by him in only a matter of seconds, then shifted, and several other visions came briefly to him, one after the other.

_He saw a young man—a mere boy really—glance up at him, bushing aside bangs of reddy-gold hair. His sky-blue eyes were glazed over, pain and deep grief swirling around in the orbs, and there was trail of tears down his cheeks. He saw Mara bend over crying softly, hands clutching her lower abdomen as currents of penetrating pain wash over her. He saw her slid down to the floor and still, close closed tightly, breathing heavy as she messaged her stomach, sweat broke out and beaded her forehead, dampening her hair. He saw Mara dressed in a gown of green shimersilk that clung in all the right places, her face obscured by a silver veil heavily edged in green and black lace. She strode towards him, smiling under the lace, and he could sense her profound happiness. He saw her on a medical bed, pale and dying, and he sensed he was handing her tight in his arms, her right hand clutching his in a death grip. Her eyes were opening, and the green light was fading as she struggled to live. She seemed to be screaming his name, but her lips did no move. "Luke!" _

"Skywalker! Luke?!"

A voice stirred Luke back to the present, and he opened his eyes to find a beautiful young woman before him, calling his name. It took a second longer for his mind to realize that it was in fact, Mara. He started again, and sprung from his seat to greet her, nearly braking his wineglass in the possess. He catched it quickly before it could fall to the floor and shatter in a million sheds, and brought it back to the table.

"Mara!" He greeted her, beaming relieved that she had finally arrived, mind trying to sort out the images just given to him and push them back so that he could focus on the evening at hand.

"You sound like you haven't seen me in years," Mara commented as Luke pulled out her chair, and she gracefully sat down. Now that he was no longer distracted by the recent visions, he noticed that she worn a knee-length, dark blue velvet gown, silted between the legs, her hair curled, streaming around her shoulders and down her back. Luke wondered if they would feel silky smooth running through his figures, but he draw his hand quickly away before he did something stupid, and sat down opposite Mara. Luke himself looked fine in a buttercup colored, long-sleeved vest, and brown under-tunic and pants. His lightsaber did not dangle noticeable, but Mara sensed he was armed nevertheless, too use to carrying the weapon around to be very comfortable without it. His hair was combed back—though the bangs insisted to fall over his eyes—and with his bright, eager glance, he looked more like a bashful teenager then a solemn Jedi Master.

Before they could bring up any thinkable topic of conversation, a waiter-droid appeared and asked for their drink requests. They chose the same wine, a dark sweetly aged molt, and Luke ordered the appetizers. As soon as the droid, he turned back to Mara, and she squirmed slightly in her sit as the same thought crossed both their minds. This was not a simple dinner between two friends, this was a date. Each had refused to acknowledge the thought and realization before, but now they couldn't. They both looked at each other with the same passion echoed in their eyes, and there was absolutely no deny it.

Without a word, Luke stood and offered out his hand to Mara.

"Would you care to dance?" he quietly asked as she quizzically looked up at him. She nodded her answer, and let him led her out onto the dance-floor which centered the restaurant. They fell in step to the soft, luring music. Mara put an hand on Luke's broad shoulder, her figures brushing the tendrils of golden hair that curled around the back of his neck; she could feel the hot from his skin even through the thick color of his vest. Luke laid a hand on her hip, his thumb brushing alone the carve as he pulled her closer to him. There was really no for such nearness as the music was not particularly slow and romantic, but Luke wanted to feel Mara's delicately feminine body against him. He could pick out so much details of her fetchers—things he would've never seen—this close. The way her neck carved gracefully when she looked up at him, the ivory skin flicked with old scars and blemishes. The way her eyes sparkled or darkened depending on the mood she was in. A single strand of hair that had escaped from the others and fell across her brow, Luke raised his hand, and brushed it back, tenderly touching her cheek in the possess. Mara turned, and looked at him, her eyes smothering with some fire, but she did not lash out at him, and he let his hand fall back to her waist. With slow easy steps, they danced smoothly across the floor, flawlessly avoiding the other couples, their movements somehow in tune with each other. Luke was amazed, he had never before realized just how well they worked with each other.

At last, the music ended, and dancing couples disbursed. Luke led Mara back to their table in silence.

"Skywalker—Luke," Mara slowly—almost shyly—said as they sat down. "Why were you so distracted when I arrived?"

"I was—thinking," Luke replied, the vision still swirling in the back corners of his conscious.

Mara frowned, her eyes darkening, she did not believe him. "If I'd known better," she said, "I would've swore you looked like you saw a Sith ghost."

Luke smiled, though it came out rather grim and more of a frown than a smile, and answered, "No."

"Then what was it?" Mara's curiosity had been heighted, and she would not be satisfied with any simple answer.

Luke sighed and looked down at his plate, wishing he could grab the bottle of wine, and drown its contents, but that would look too skeptical, like he was an avoiding something.

_You got that right, Skywalker!_ Mara's mental voice said to him. Luke looked up, and saw she smirk satisfactory at his startled glance.

"It was a vision," he finally confessed grudgingly.

"_Really?_" Mara's voice indicated she still doubted him.

"Yes," Luke's voice was firm and honest. "I saw you, and someone else, and… I don't know what—" he sighed wearily, rubbing his temple with a hand. "I can't understand it, yet something in me feels that it's important. I should understand it, but I can't."

"Do you think it's from the Force?" Mara asked, pouring herself some wine.

"Yes—I do. The only visions I've ever had, are from the Force."

"What are they about?"

Luke glanced sharply up at Mara, reluctant to tell her that he had seen her died, yet somehow wishing to confess everything, all of his doubts and fears, to someone. A hand came between the glassware and dishes, it's small, delicate figures brushing his. Before they could withdraw, he grasped them tendered, yet tightly, holding them in his. Without looking up at Mara, he finally confessed. "I saw you die," his voice was empty of all emotion.

Mara started back, eyes widening with horror as she exclaimed in disbelief, "_What?_"

"I saw you drowned," Luke looked up, and Mara caught deep, profound grief in his eyes that were blue storms swirling with unidentified emotions. "Then I felt you were in pain—deep pain, and I was holding you. I-I-I don't understand it…" his voiced faded away, chocking, and he had too turn away from her, if he looked too long the tears would spill over.

Mara felt his hold on his hand tighten, then abruptly loosen, as if allowing her the chance to let go. She did not, but squeezed his hand in a return of affection.

"It's alright, Luke," Mara quickly assured him. "It was just a vision."

"No," Luke's voice was hard, rough from his tight throat. "My father had visions of my mother dying, and she almost did. He had a vision of the Supreme Chancellor being a Sith Lord, and he was. I won't let this vision come true."

"But perhaps it was a warning," Mara tired to reason with Luke, trying to seen the situation from ever possible angle. "Perhaps the Force gave you these visions so that could _not _come true, have you ever thought of that?"

Luke frowned, thinking about it for awhile, then nodded, "Maybe you're onto something. But _why_?" He turned to her, confusing in his face, "What is it the Force wants me to avoid?If I knew—if it could show me—I could avoid it altogether."

"Perhaps it's a subconscious thing," Mara again suggested. "Perhaps you're doing something right now, at this very moment."

"I don't know…" Luke's voice trailed, and he sighed, a sudden need to lighten the mood taking over. "Come on, one evening with you it's going to hurt, and I have my whole life ahead of me to mediate on this. Let's eat, I'm starved."

And Mara gladly expected his proposal.

* * *

The rest of the meal was spent in light conversation about nothing in-particular, and with no more accidents of any sort, save for a slight mishap at the end of the meal when they were lingering over their drinks. Mara suddenly jerked the table, and the contents of her wine spilled over into Luke's lap. Luckily there was not much left, and he was able to sop it up with a napkin before it trickled to the floor, but it did leave a noticeable stain on his brown paints in an unfortunate place. He tried cleaning it away some more, but it was an useless efferent. They took it as a sign that they had had too much to drink and needed to leave.

Arm in arm, Luke escorted Mara out of the restaurant and onto the streets. It had grown dark and cold, a bitter wind moaning between the alleyways and whistling down the streets. They walked slowly towards his parked speeder, each wanting to saver every moment together, as if they sensed they would not see each other again for a very long time.

"I'm sorry…about your family," Luke said, his voice low and deep, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

Mara shrugged against his shoulder, "It happens, maybe I was better off without them."

"Maybe…" the Jedi's voice trailed, and again they were bathed in companionable quiet. Mara told Luke much about herself that evening over dinner, she had told him that she had never known her birth-parents, that she had been raised by a Grey Jedi of dark unknown origins who had deserted the Order long ago. She had been deeply abused by him, used for his own games, until one day he had been killed in an ambush, and she had been released from his slavery. She had wandered the galaxy since then, in time redeeming herself and finding herself. She worked numerous odd jobs as a waitress and dancers to make ends meet, and eventually finding herself into Jabba's clan of smuggling crones. She had been working for him—working as an successful smuggler in the universe's underworld-for the past four years when Luke had abruptly arrived. She had her own ship, though no longer an employee, and had decided to be generous and give the shipment of medical supplies and medicine to Mandoralore. What she would do then, where she would go afterwards, Mara had no idea.

"I could always work for Talon Karrde," Mara murmured in the darkness as they continued working towards the speeder parked a block away, as if the question of her future had arisen.

"Who?" Luke curiously enquired.

"Oh," Mara shrugged again. "His a smuggler and information broker who offered showed up at Jabba's door. I'm surprise you haven't heard of him, he has a very strong network throughout the Galaxy, people say you can't even have a private com without him knowing."

"No, I'm afraid I haven't heard of him," Luke admitted. "I'm not a smuggler after all."

"He's said to be a very good man to work under," Mara said. "Not exactly you're typical smuggler, or so I've heard."

"I thought you wanted to become a Jedi?" they had come to his speeder, and Luke helped Mara in before walk around and sliding into the driver's seat.

"No," and her voice was firm, denying any argument. "I want to learn more about the ways of the Force, _Skywalker_, but I do _not_ want to become a Jedi."

Luke put the key into the ignition, but did not turn it to engage the engine, instead he turned to look full at Mara beside. He could not see he face, but he could tell that she sensed his sharp eyes upon her. "Being a Jedi is very noble," he explained, "We are Guardians of the Galaxy, peacekeepers and justices of the peace. To be a Jedi is an honor, Jade."

"To be a Jedi is to live your life for others," Mara argument, her voice low and edged with heat. "I do not want to live for people who are ungrateful for what I do for them. I'm _not_ going to become a Jedi, Luke, not now and not ever."

Luke refrained from mention the fact that she was very close to being a Jedi, with her strong Force sensitive and lightsaber, but he said nothing, and drove in silence. Gradually the tense and heat between then lost its venom, and soon they were once again at peace, relaxed and basking in each other's presence, talking about this and that of no importance, but both avoiding the touch subjects. Finally, Mara noticed that Luke was not driving her the way she had expected, he was not returning her to her apartment, but going the opposite direction.

Concerned that he was perhaps a little dozed with wine, she reached out and touched him, saying worriedly, "Luke, _where_ are you going?"

Luke surpassed the urge to laugh, seeing her concern and the reason behind it. "I'm taking you to my place, my father's off-planet, and my mother and sister and Han are at the ballet, they won't be back for awhile."

Mara did not dare ask as the reason why he had suddenly decided to take her to his home, some things were better left unsaid for fear they were destroy everything.

* * *

With a wave of his hand, Luke switched on the lights beside the sofas on the veranda as they stepped out of the speeder. The lamps casted a soft yellowy glow, but the shadows still swarmed around the corners and curtains that swayed gently in the breeze around the pillars. He and Mara sat down, several of inches of cushion between them, though suddenly the distance was both too far and too short. An awkward silence still over them, the first in all that evening. They opened their mouths at the same time, but no words came, and they quickly glanced away, feeling the need to speak, but not knowing what to say when they did. Luke shifted in the sofa, and the movement cased Mara glance back at him. Their eyes met, both seeming to say within their swirling orbs,_ What are we doing? _

Suddenly, as if something decided to snap within both of them at the same time, they leaned forward. Without thinking, for somehow thought had become too hard to make in the last few seconds, their lips brushed against each other. At first the kiss was tender—the perfect first kiss—then a sea of passion flooded between them, and it become fiery, lips fighting for entrance, tongues battle for domination. One of them groaned. Luke wrapped his arms around Mara's waist, pulling her onto his lap as he quickly deepened the kiss. His hands run up from her hips to caress the mounds of her breasts, feeling the tips stiffen even under the heavy fabric. Mara rose up slightly, her hands clinging to his shoulders, then running them through his thick hair. She felt that she was drowning, that she need to come up for air, but she couldn't, the pull of his bright, overwhelming presences was just too strong.

It was Luke who finally broke the kiss, trailing his lips from Mara mouths down her throat and along her shoulder as he gently pushed her dress away. His mouth paused momentarily as he heard her moan, and felt her arch slightly against him. He twined his arms more securely around her, holding her close, his hands resting flatly on her back as she leaned foreword on and rested her cheek on his shoulder. They hugged each other, trying to regain their breaths and cast some control over the situation.

Luke let out a deep sigh, and leaned deep back into the cushions, pulling Mara with him. He did not remember the last time he had ever held a woman in his arms, especially a woman as beautiful as Mara. All thoughts of Callista vanished with Mara's presence, there was absolutely no comparison between the two woman. He let a hand caress up her back, and figured the ends of her curls, the threads of dark hair ran like liquid between his figures as he gently ran his hand up to her scalp.

"So beautiful," Luke murmured as he stroke the strands of hair.

Mara smiled against the Jedi's shoulder, enjoy the sensation of him playing with her long tassels. Turning her head, she glazed up at him, and their eyes met, darkened with intense passion. Once again their mouths met, and they kissed feverously, their figures grasping each other in tight embrace. They both moaned as heat shot down their bodies, the passion quickly intensifying to an uncontrollably level.

"Force, Mara," Luke groaned against her lips, voice raw and rough, gasping for breath between pouts of fanatic kissing. "How I want you.

A soft laugh escaped the woman in his arms, the pureness of singing bells it sounded in his ears, and Mara withdraw from the kiss, gazing fully at him, she gasped as she saw just how dark and lustful Luke's eyes were.

"Yes," she answered, stroking a figure down his cheek, feeling old scars and the hard plane of his jaw under it. "I can tell," her eyes sparkled knowingly.

For a moment Luke was at a loss, then he realized—or more specifically _felt_ her full meaning; he smiled, unable to detain the fact that some parts of him were utterly out of his control now. He let his hands slid down Mara's body until the figure tips felt smooth skin. Agonizingly slowly, he raised her skirt, his rough hands caressing up her leg and thigh until he felt the lace of her panties.

"Luke…" Mara's voice was low and seductive, yet if the Jedi had listened closely he would have caught a hit of warning in it. She wiggled, her hips moving suggestively against him. Luke bite down on his lower lip, surpassing the urge to groan as a part of him felt the movement all too acutely. Mara squirmed again, her senses returning to her, and grabbed Luke's hand under her dress.

"Luke, no," she was finally about to say. "This is going too fast."

"I know, I know," Luke murmured against her ear lob, "I-I just—" His voice cracked. Suddenly he looked up at her, his eyes suddenly clear, no longer passaging any passion. He draw his hand quickly away from her, shaking his had too clear the confusion, and stood up almost as if a snake had bite him. He looked at Mara, horror infused in face. "Mara, what's going on?" his voice was low and confused.

"I-I don't know," Mara confused. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Th-this can't be happen. We're just friends," Luke ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand the situation they had placed themselves in.

"No," Mara stood up and walked towards. She placed a hand on his arm, looking up at him with honest eyes. "We're not friends, Luke, we're something more."

"How, why..?" Luke stammered.

"Remember your visions," Mara suggested. "They were of me, weren't they? Maybe the Force wants us to be together so that they don't come to pass."

Luke looked at her, startled with that realization. Suddenly everything became quite clear to him. Maybe the Force was warning him—was giving him these vision—so that he and Mara could be together far quicker than otherwise, so that they could prevent some things from happening in the future. Realization was bit of a shock, and Luke felt suddenly faint and weak, he had to set down, but it was Mara who broke the silence.

"Luke," her voice was small and freighted, she was just as startled and afraid of this as he suddenly was. "What are we going to do?"

"I…have no idea."


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

_ "Luke," her voice was small and freight, she was just as startled and afraid of this as he suddenly was. "What are going to do?"_

_ "I…have no idea."_

Luke strode to the very edge of the veranda. He looked out over the darkened city, eyes searching for something he couldn't see in the gloom, and let out a low sigh. The words that been spoken seconds before continued to ring through his mind again and again, proclaiming that they couldn't be taken back. The realization that the Force was undoubted, purposely forcing them together, once again occurring to him and shaking him to the very core. The invisible, untouchable power that was the Force, did not idly plan the destinies of those within its charge; everything it did, or did not, was for a reason—though oftentimes that reason was just as obscure as itself. Luke ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, and relaxed against the nearest marble pillar, his body more than welling for the momentary break, his mind ill at ease and wandering fruitless hither and thither. He was suddenly weary—very weary—the toil of his restlessly, sometimes sleepless, nights baring down heavily on him.

"Luke?" Mara soft and anxious voice drawn him back, and he turned his head to look at her. She stood under the stars from the city, slender and tall, but not proud and defiant, lonely and fearful, her face paled and drawn with worry. Luke straightened, and went to her, hand reaching out and grasping hers in his. He shivered at the contact and chill that sipped from her flesh, and quickly rubbed his fingers together with her, bring what warmth he could back into her veins. He reached up and smoothed back her hair so that he could see her face more fully, his hand resting a little longer on the gentle carve of her neck. He felt her pulse quickly in the vein under his finger tips, and Luke looked down into her eyes that stared up at him. Through the Force, he could feel her apprehension, her mute distrust of him, her uncertainty, all the same emotions he was struggling to keep at bay within himself.

Mara opened her mouth to speak, but he stilled her with a finger to her lips, and said softly, "It's alright, Mara." A warm tendril of calm washed over her, and she was surprisingly grateful, her otherwise tense body relaxing under him.

"Luke," Mara had finally reclaimed her voice, "what does this all mean?"

A frown briefly crossed his lips, and his eyes darkened every so slightly. He sighed, letting his hand fall from her neck, and said, "I-I think the Force want's us to be together. How-or why, I don't know yet. But…I think we should be together, and not like a Master and an Apprentice ether."

"You mean—like couple?" Mara's voice was low and somewhat strained, she still couldn't yet comprehend what had been happen with her life the past few days, let alone hours.

There was a pause as Luke disgusted the knowledge and the fact that he would have to confess the truth aloud and to her. Finally, he summoned his courage, and said every so softly it came out lower than a whisper, "Yes."

Silence fell over them, and the darkness of night closed in around them, pursing them together. Luke's grip on Mara's hands tightened, as if he feared she would leave him, run away from him, instead of facing the brutally honest truth of the present situation. He knew he all too well, though they had barely known each other two weeks, and she was all too acutely away of it. But strangely she didn't want to leave, to leave her suddenly complex life that made absolutely no sense now, but most of all she didn't want to leave _him. _ They glanced at each other, then turned away, then stole a glance at the other individual yet again. It seemed to them, they had just admitted the very thing they had been denying all day, all the evening. The truth that both of them were fall hopelessly and deeply in love with the other, but the knowledge was too raw for them to speak about it aloud, just to themselves in the depths of their individuality.

At last, it was Luke who pulled away first. He let Mara's hands go, and stepped back, giving the space to leave him—forever if she choose. She didn't stir a single muscle, her feet seemingly rooted to the spot.

"You—should go," Luke sensed the rapid approach of his sensitive mother and sister, escorted by the famous Han, and he had no desire to explain anything to them about the woman with him—at least, not yet.

Mara apparently felt it too, and nodded, but still didn't move away.

"Mara?" Luke's voice probed urgently, and she felt a sudden flash of alarm shot through him. He took a step towards her, eyes worrying searching her.

She shook her head, "Luke, I'm alright. I'm not sick."

A strange cloud of foreboding cased over him, and long shadow spread over his heart before just as flittingly evaporating.

Without a word, Luke touched her arm, the contact rousing her enough for him to lead her through the darkened apartment to the turbolift. Their steps slowed to a stop before the enclosed doors, and Luke turned to Mara close beside him.

"See you tomorrow then?" he quietly—almost cautiously asked.

Mara nodded, but said nothing, she could not think of anything expectable to say.

Luke reached out to her, his fingers caressing her smooth skin so warm under his own, and murmured, "I'll take care of you, Mara. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," and Mara did, she had since the very first time they had beheld each other in Jabba's Palace.

Luke leaned slowly into her, his strong hands subconsciously curling there way around her waist, drawing her even closer to him. He bowed his head, his mouth descending to envelope hers, and she willingly welcomed him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers trailing through the scruffy curls at the nap of his neck. Their kiss grown in intensity as the passion burst forth between them, and they clung to each other for dear life as the air and Force surrounded rapidly heated. Luke leaned into Mara, hands studying her as he forced her back against the nearby wall. She moaned, and cupped his face in her hands as he came back down to her and kissed again.

"Luke," Mara murmured, coming up for breath. Her body shivering from sheer lack of control in experiencing a kiss with the young Jedi.

Luke draw back and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he drew in deep gasps of breath, his heart pounded in his ears as he struggled for control.

"I-I must go," Mara informed him, her voice throaty and thick with deep emotions she was not even aware of.

"Yes.." Luke's low voice trailed away as he kissed her again, this time soft and gentle in preparation of farewell. His hand slid from her waist and brushed against the controls that engineered the turbolift. It opened, and split-second afterwards, the sound of a clear voice came between the kissers, forcing them apart faster than a blaster-shot, and redding their faces just as rapidly.

"If your kids are quite done—" he unmistakably amused voice of a certain Solo interrupted their shambled thoughts, "—we need to get through."

Involuntarily, Luke and Mara parted from the returners' way, simultaneously into the way deep, dark shadows they could find. If she had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, Padmé gave no indication as she drifted gracefully into the living room, fingers busying with pulling off her opera gloves and inspecting the tidiness of her home, though Luke noticed anxious brow and distraught bite of the lip. Leia swept by him almost as unalarmed, but not quite without a curious brow raised in question, as she wonder the wisdom of her older brother's actions. Han couldn't prevent a wink and knowing grin to sip onto his face, and he nudged Luke before skirting off with the retreating ladies. Quickly, Mara stepped into the turbolift and prepared to quickly leave the scene, her face still flushed a crimson red, and her nerves shattered slightly with the shock. But Luke rapidly rejoined her, and as soon as the lift doors shut and they were well alone and headed for the lower levels of the apartment, he swung her back into his arms, and was frantically kissing her before any protests could leak out. They stayed locked like thus until the lift doors reopened—fortunately without an audience—Luke finally released Mara. She stumbled against him, and for a they stood against the wall totally stunned by the experience they had just shared, then Mara straightened and Luke let her go.

"Tomorrow," Luke said, his voice seductively deep in his tight throat. "We have much to talk about."

"Yeah…" Mara picked up her purse from where she had flung it in one of the lift's corners and stumbled through the lift as quickly as she could without falling all over her owe feet. Luke slopped against the wall as the doors shut after her, and closed his eyes, breathing heavily to study his racing blood.

Silence and the darkness of light night met him upon his return to the apartment. With the softness and steal of a tamed Corillian cat, he strode through the rooms, up the stairs and down the hall to his own bedroom, smile as he caught Han already splayed out on one of the veranda sofa's, still fully clothed and snoring seriously. Luke lay a hand on the control to enter his room, thoroughly relieved that he had been unnoticed by anyone upon his return, and relishing the fact he could spend the night asleep and recovering from his embarrassment, when he felt the warming presences of his mother very close by. He turned, and saw Padmé, a finger to her lips as she indicated silence. Without a word, Luke let his hand fall from the control, and followed her up to his parent's private bedroom. It was round and small without only the necessary furniture, clean with elegant lines. With a graceful wave of her hand, Padmé lit one of the bedside lamps and sat down as Luke did. She didn't look at him, but he could already sense her fear and concern flooding through the Force, and he took one of her hands, squeezing it gently.

At length she quietly confessed, "Your father's endangered. Captain Rex sent a hologram, and informed me that he's been captured… By—Vader."

* * *

At first it was the suffocating darkness that swirled around him, pressing his body against some hard surface, then it was the blinding white light that flooded through him to bathe every cell and molecule of his being. Slowly—every so slowly—Anakin opened his eyes and blinked up at the stark celling of what he assumed was his prison. He tried to move, but his limbs were stuck fast, belted down by a mental fast at his wrist and ankles. He stopped his struggled, and sigh frustrated as his conscious tried to comprehend what had happened in so short a time.

He and Captain Rex had been going on a mission to Mon Calamari for a war- conference with General Ackbar. Their ships had been struggling with some difficulty along the way, but it was only on the edge of the Outer Rim that they had been forced to jump out of hyperspace and fix the most recent mechanical mishap. There, in rapid succession, they had been ambushed by enemy star-destroyers, boarded, and Anakin and Rex quickly taken captured, what remaining crewmembers killed or imprisoned themselves. The older Jedi knew no more afterwards, but the sickening darkness that starve to drown him. Only now had he come up out of that black sea to emerge to an even darker reality.

Despite the unnerving knowledge that the Force abruptly gone from him, Anakin could still feeling the dominating presence of pure and undefined evil around him. It coked him and weakened his physical and mental strengths. His heart pulsed slowly within his chest, each and every movement a consist struggle against the Dark Side that overshadowed and overlooked everything. Anakin tried to breath deeply, searching for any tendril of the Force to calm his shocked nerves, but it was to no avail; the Force was gone—utterly and completing—from him. He closed his eyes, never feeling more alone and abounded then before, for the Force had always been there with him since as long as the Jedi could remember. It could prove an annoyance, mind you, but it was still a necessity that possessed many hopeful uses. He tried to remember some basic survival tactics taught to every youngling if they should find themselves in a situation like his owe, but Anakin found that his mind was wandering and strangely numb, he couldn't think on one thing than for more than one second before flitting off to the next. He let out a low sigh, and drifted back to a state of subconsciousness, if nothing else, at least he could sleep away from the misery he now found himself in. In his sleepy mind, Anakin wondered about Padmé, his thoughts were always somewhat on the safety of his children and wife, and in the attack before, he had subconsciously reached out to her through the Force. She had not replied, but than again he couldn't have tell, being pitched into darkness moments later. He wondered if she had sensed his earlier trouble and was sending reinforcements to help him. Anakin cursed the lack of the Force sensitive, he was no longer very capable of contacting the Jedi or Luke through the Force, he was very much on his own, and his only hope lay in that they had noticed his absent presences.

* * *

An emergency meeting of the Jedi Council was quickly confirmed as soon as Luke reentered the Temple and awoken Yoda and Obi-wan to inform them of Anakin's capture, Padmé close behind him to justify the information. Though it was still night, and a thick dank fog darkening the early-hours of the new day and blotched out the stars normally visible, the Council members gathered with such defiance and sobriety they could exceed still only barely awake. Luke had changed from that evening's outfit into his customary Jedi casuals of tan and brown. Even, Padmé, no longer normally seen at the Temple and in her standard Jedi attire, had appeared, fully clothed in a long dress and tunic of dark blue and silver, brown hair done only a long braid, lightsaber swinging visibly on her slender hip. She stood dignified by as Luke hurriedly explained the presence situation to the other Council members in attendance, hands clasps in front of her, a composed and weary expression on her face though her eyes were fused with understandable worry at her husband's current safety.

"When was the last time you came in contact with the_ Angel_?" Luke turned and asked the Jedi head of communications.

"Six standard hours ago," the Jedi answered dutifully. "They were having some mechanical difficulties with the ships, and were asking for some reinforcements, then returned and said everything was well in order."

Luke nodded, frowning as he noticed the suspiciousness of the account. It seemed strange to him that he had felt nothing of his father's captivity. Even though leagues of star spotted galaxy separated them, the connections through the Force gave little indication of the space, it would fade of course to a dull shimmer in the bond, but was still noticeably there if reached for deep enough.

"I can't feel him," Luke murmured slowly as several of the present Jedi picked up on his concerned emotions and eyed him curiously.

"Neither can I," Padmé confessed. "I only felt him for a moment, sensing he was endanger, and then…he was gone. But not dead, I would've known."

"We all would've known," Obi-wan agreed, fingering his white-red fletched bread habitually.

"Send a search-party out, we must," stated Yoda slowly, he leaned heavily upon his gimer cane, eyes drooping with weariness as he advanced age required more sleep than otherwise. "Skywalker will go," the old Jedi declared after a pause. "Take his apprentice he will. Good, it will be for both of them."

"But.." protested Padmé, "It's too dangerous for them to go alone."

"Yes, humm…yes," Yoda agreed slowly, then stated logically, "but more go, more it will be dangerous. Take Clones Xeye and Fox, they will." Yoda turned away, looking up at Luke who stood patiently away his release from the Council. "Very Dangerous, this mission is, young Skywalker," Yoda sadly informed him. "Be mindful, you must be. A trap you may be walking into. Even in dark places, the Force will be with you."

The other Jedi present murmured soft words of farewell, and Luke turned away. He gently squeezed his mother's hand and kissed her cheek as she excepted his departure with a motherly _Be safe, son,_ through the Force. Then he was gone from the darkened room without a backward glance.


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

Once again, Anakin emerged from the dark, dreamless state of slumber into the blinding white light of his prison cell. The noise of hurriedly passing troops and heavier, louder footfalls of someone quickly approaching, cased the Jedi to cock his head to one side as he lay painfully up against the hard cold stone he was currently chained too. There was complete silence for a second longer, than an invisible door opposite where Anakin lay opened, and a spidery old man entered, back straight as a stick, stone face—ashy toned—set in a natural frown of pure disdain. Instantly, Anakin recognized the man, and it took a great strength of well for him not to lift his head and spat upon the man, for he was none other than the Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, once of the Republic Clone Army. He approached the captured Jedi, looking down the full length of his long noise in scorn and cold glee without lowering his proud head. Anakin glanced up, and looked fully at him, his blue eyes icing over with deep hatred at the traitor the Moff was through and through. Their eyes locked, and the Jedi was given the bitter satisfaction when Tarkin stepped stiffly back from him a foot or so.

"I should've known you were in league with Vader," Anakin let as much coldness into his voice as humanly possible. "I should've recognized your foul stench from the beginning, _Tarkin._" He finally gave into his deep desire, and spat at the Governors' feet. Tarkin's eyes glittered with renewed loathing, and his frown deepened in utter disgust.

"Charming …to the last," Tarkin replied just as icily. "You don't know how hard I found it when I heard that you'd been captured."

Anakin shorted, quite incapable of believing him. "I'm surprise you had the courage to take the responsibility yourself," he retorted, hate dripping from his voice.

Tarkin stepped further back away from him, hands tartly behind his back, and lowered his eyes exactly like a hawk looking indifferently down upon its hopeless prey. "General _Skywalker,_" he declared. "Before your excision, Vader would like to question you. I trust you will be more than quabiterive?"

If only had the Force been with him, Anakin would've broken through his bonds, and rung Tarkin's neck thoroughly with his bare fingers, but he couldn't break free, and only replied sourly, "Never." The Grand Moff had threatened him—and his family—far too often in the past for the Jedi's liking, and he felt it was high time he was ended once and far all. Even as a respected Republic Commander of several fleets and squadrons of Clones, Anakin had always withheld a great distrust and dislike of Tarkin; he had come from a wealthy family whose pride, arrogance, and ambition had blinded them and scarred their reputation. Ever since a little mishap above a Core World where they had been stranded, and Padmé's life had been juperized, Anakin had suspected Tarkin's trectary. Not begrudgingly, had he been happy to hear that the Moff's ship had cashed to nothingness and all the crewmembers killed.

Without another word to the Jedi, Tarkin turned sharply away from him, and was gone, Anakin looking revoltingly at his stiffly retreating back before the prison door shut, and the Jedi was once again left alone with his thoughts. Anakin's stomach churned—out of hungry or the realization that he was undoubtedly soon to be trailed and killed, he didn't know. He sighed as memories of his family's face sprung to mind, and he fervently hoped they were alright and safe, and were looking for him. _ Come soon,_ Anakin wishfully thought as he once again sank into sleep, _Come soon. _

* * *

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Mara sighed, exasperated through the com connection linking the four starfighters together as they left the dark, smoggy atmosphere of Coruscant into the black, star-streaked space above. She was in an understandably foul disposition after being so rudely awakened not three hours earlier. She was mental exhausted, and a slow headache was already making its way over her brow. She rubbed her temples variously between checking her controls for any delayed mishaps that might occur in the ship, and sighed again, remembering what had cased her to be in this present position to begin with.

Mara had barely falling to her bed, still fully clothed in the previous evening's dress and shoes, her emotions still recovering with all the turmoil that had happened between her and Luke earlier, when said Jedi had comed her repeatedly, shattering her doze. The consistent beeping and blaring of the irritable comlink had forced her to her feet, and blurred eyed, she had reluctantly answered it. Luke had went on to quickly explain to her the situation, finally requesting her presence at the Temple platforms in under a half-hour. Mara had had no other chose but redress, braid her hair, and pack up her necessaries, wishfully hoping Luke would have the rest of what she might need. Then she had joined him, shivering as flustered skin met chill night air, and he had proceeded to explain the rest to her as Artoo checked over the ships, and she looked over the small Jedi starfighter required for her use.

"I know you have your own ship," Luke had said as he helped her up the ladder to the cramped cockpit, "But these are smaller and better to omnivore than larger vesicles."

Mara had climbed in, tossing her baggage in a small storage unit behind the pilot's seat, and adjusted herself to the surroundings as comfortably as possible, glancing over the controls with a keen eye. Luke lingered beside her, making sure everything was running smoothly and explaining what things he deemed she might what to know about the unfamiliar ship and upcoming mission.

"The last contact with my father was near the Myrkr system," he quietly explained. "I think we should go there first, it would explain the lack of Force communication."

Mara raised an eyebrow, she had heard of the forested world before, infamous with its recited Vornskrs and Force stopping Ysalamiri. "Wasn't there a Separatists base there?" she asked.

"Yes," and Luke's voice confirmed his anxiety. "Yet another reason we should go."

Mara glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His hands gripped the edges of the cockpit tightly—pale in the frugal moonlight—and his jaw was shuck out in that determined arch she was becoming quickly familiar with. Though she couldn't seen his face in the darkness that pressed around them, she could sense his sharp eyes upon her, blue pools swirling with strong emotions. She turned her head, and looked at him fully, feeling his warm breath on her as he was only a few centimeters from her. Reaching out, she laid a hand upon his cheek, thumbing rubbing down the strong jaw bone as she cupped him, and said softly, a mere whisper between the two of them, "We'll get your father back, Luke, no matter what."

Luke nodded, and kissed her palm, then leaned further in to caress against her soft lips. He melted in the gentle kiss so full of such deep affection, and willed himself not to drag himself into the cockpit beside her and kiss her wholly and heatedly until they could barely breath for lack of oxygen. He draw back, his eyes softening, and turned away. Without another word or glance in her direction, he mounted down the ladder and left to his own ship not far away, leaving Mara suddenly feeling uncomfortably alone in the shadows of the cockpit. She wanted to feel him close again, hands on her body, hot breath on her lips, blue eyes staring almost to her soul. But the only contentment she could receive at present was his warm, shining presences with the flow of the Force.

"Is everyone set for lightspeed?" Luke now asked as they entered their hyperspace rings around their ships. He was already tabbing in their desnation's coordinates, and his gloved finger lay waiting over the final control. The other pilots rapidly replied their readiness, and an instant later they were racing through the flow of blue lights that shot sightlessly by. Relaxing slightly, Luke lay back into his seat and let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been withholding. They had several hours before the tunnel they currently traveled through ended and the mission to sent his father free began, so he was well intending to take advantage of that time-period to sleep and mediate as undisturbed as possible. His hands fell to his lap as he lapsed into a state of subconscious wherein he was still particularly aware of his surroundings. Silence settled over the ship, not even broken by the extreme speed of racing through hyperspace.

Once everything was well underway, and there was nothing else to do but wait, Mara sat back, and sighed. Her eyes dropped with weariness, but she was too jittery and restless to properly sleep. Her calves cramped in the small space, and she stretched out as much as she possibly could. There was some advantages to an one-man starfighter, the fact that your space was not infringed upon and that you had complete control over the ship without having to relaying on someone else, but there just as many—or more—disadvantages, the small space for one. She settled back down in her seat, and reached through the Force to Luke's fighter speeding close beside her. He was unconscious, though every now and then a flicker of awareness fluttered through him. She could seen him through her mind's eye; bangs of dark gold fell over his forehead, eyelids closed—the long blonde lashes spread out over his scarred cheeks. Mara had never seen him sleep before, and found the sight almost mesmerizing, though she could tell that his subconscious state was less than undisturbed. Dreams—some unaware of, some prominent—projected through the Force around his mind. She felt him shift restlessly in his seat, and without think, sent him a gentle caress, casing whatever had disturbed him to vanish. Mara withdraw back into herself and her present surrounds, and hissed as her headache suddenly increased in volume. She cupped her head in her hands, and sighed, letting her tense body relaxing as much as it could, and tried to clear her head of all thoughts, breathing deeply as Luke had once shown her in what seemed oh so long ago, but was in essences only few short days ago.

* * *

Anakin strode as briskly and defiantly as he could muster in his current state as battle-droids escorted him out of his prison cell and into the corridors beyond. His mouth was set in a hard, determined line as he was lead away down to where the Sith Lord awaited his presence, his steps stubbornly resounded along the passageways, declaring his rebelliousness just as loudly as words. He might be imprisoned and captured, but his will was far from being broken, even with the impending presence of the Sith.

The droids lead into him a small, darken cell where several more droids and Commanders stood, awaiting him with cool stares. In their midst, behind the Moff Tarkin, a tall black beast stood. He was clad all in thick black armor, a black velvet cloak bellowing down from his broad shoulders, a chain of cold silver connecting it at the throat. A polished black helmet and mask concealed his face, and his breathing came in loud rasps through the resperature that kept him alive. Evil swirled around his being like a hurricane, particularly suffocating all near him. Anakin wanted to gag, his stomach churning fiercely, wanting to vomit up its scarce contents, but he kept his mouth shut, and swallowed hard.

"At last," Vader spoke, his voice deep and rasping, "we have the chance to meet, Sky-walk-er." He pronounced the name with as much disdain as possible behind his mask.

Anakin gave no reply, having nothing to say, and looked at him, his eyes sparkling fiercely under heavily drown brows.

"Your reputation proceeds you, Jedi," Vader continued. "The cycle is now complete, and your life is at an end."

Still Anakin didn't answer, denying that death was soon to be his destiny. He had seen through the Force, through the eyes the Father had given him, and knew in the depths of his soul, his life was far from over. There was still much for him to do, and if he died now, the balance of the universe would forever been toppled, and darkness would devour all in its wake.

"You can't win, Vader," Anakin at last resigned to speak, his voice low and hard. "I am more powerful then you imagine."

"Your arrogance blinds you," Vader assured him violently. "As does your faith in your friends. I _will_ break you, and get the information I want. Take him away, and shown him the true meaning of pain."

Without another word, the Sith marched out of the room, cloak bellowing after in the harsh wind he created, his officers and commanders following without a glance at the lowly prisoner. The battle-droids gruffly grabbed hold of the Jedi, and followed in their wake to the torture chambers beyond.

* * *

It was an inquiring twerk from Artoo that stirred Luke from his light slumber. He blinked, and opened his eyes, gazing across the dashboard of controls as the ship singled it was coming out of hyperspace. He sat up straighter, and prepared for the jolt that indicated their arrival.

"It's alright, Artoo," Luke reassured the worried astromech who beeped a questioning raspberry. "I'm awake. Is everyone in and ready?" he asked through the group's com connection.

"Ready as we'll ever be, Commander," the older Clone Fox replied after the others.

"Right…" _This is where the fun begins,_ Luke privately thought, though he didn't speak that comment aloud, too busying with maintain his ship's speed as it vibrated rapidly come out of hyperspace. He draw up, the others appearing and gathering around him, and for a minute they were drifting silence through cold space, the planet Myrkr rotating before them. Luke set final checks on his steering and controls, then glanced up, his sharp gaze landed on the marshy green planet below. His gut tightened, and his stomached rolled, he would be entering the atmosphere where no Force was capable of penetrating, made possible by the wandering, hunting beasts of Ysalamiri. He disliked the knowledge he would be abounded by the Force for any amount of time, but it must be so, he must make do.

_Luke?_ He felt a wondering tendril from Mara, her senses filled with sudden concern. _I'm fine,_ he quickly assured her, not wanting her to know what he was feeling, though undoubtedly she already did, _Just—prepare yourself. _Luke engaged the engines more thorough, and the little group of starfighters advanced to the planet.

"Commander," Clone Xeye informed the Jedi, "Fleet of enemy fighters headed our way. Prepare to engage them."

"Great," Mara murmured loud enough for all to hear, "no one checked to see if there was a welcome committee for us."

"Avoid them," Luke instructed as an enemy ship emerged on him, and he was forced to varied to one side. "We're not here to fight ."

"Pardon me, Commander," returned one of the Clones close behind him, "I don't think we're gettin' out of here without a scrap."

"Probably true," Luke agreed, steering his ship off to one side as he avoided shots the enemy fired at him, trying to injure one of his ships vental components. The last shot hit its target, and his hand slipped ever so slightly from the steering, casing the ship to start spinning downwards out of complete control. He tried to grip hold of it yet again, but it was too late, he was plumbingly downwards towards the planet below, and could do nothing but set far back in his seat and hold on as tightly as he could.

"Luke!" Mara yelled into the com, "Luke, are you alright?!"

Luke didn't reply, too distracted for her attention.

"Commander, pull up!" Xeye cried at him.

"I-I can't," Luke gasped out, and he flung up an arm as the speeding ship was violently drawn into the planet's atmosphere. Fire sprung up and over the stern, blinding the Jedi within, and he was buried under the streaming sparks. Artoo beeped mournfully as the ship suddenly jolted forward through the dense jungle of the planet's surface, and came to a scratching halt in the sharp underbrush, sliding to a stop on its belly. Luke's head fell forward hard against the dashboard, and he knew no more.

With an urgency she had never experienced before, fingers shaking so much she could barely grip anything–let alone her belt clasp—Mara freed herself from her seatbelt and was limping out of the cockpit in a single movement. She called her lightsaber to her, and was racing towards the pile that once resembled a ship but was now nothing more than a burning heap of rubble. The two Clone troopers, now that they had freed themselves from the enemy's attack above the planet, where landing, ready to join her as she made quick work through the jungle to the Jedi's side. She scrambled to the cockpit, Artoo beeping worriedly as he jumped out, her hands making quick work of the security seatbelt around the Jedi's waist. He was unconscious, bruised and scorched, but beside that he was nevertheless mostly unscathed. Sensing the need for hast, in case the fire reached the back engines, Mara pulled at Luke, and heaved him over one shoulder. Xeye joined her, and together they hulled the Jedi to a safe descents away from the wreckage. With an affection hand, Mara laid Luke down, his head resting in her lap ,and rubbed along his temple and cheek, calling silently through the Force for him to return to them, to her. The Clones knelt and looked on in sober silence, one of them handing her a container of water, Artoo rolled neared them, his anxious beeping low, eventually fading to silence.

At length, they were greeted with movement in the Jedi's body, and a low groan. Luke put a hand to his head, feeling the smarting skin, and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing that met his wandering gaze was the concerned green of Mara, and—almost without knowing he did so, and utterly unaware of the Clones' presence, he reached up and rubbed an efficient hand along her pale cheek, caressing her frowning lips. He lifted his head, and brushed against those same lips with his own in a tender, longing kiss. It confirmed the nearby Clones' suspicions, and they looked away, grinning at each other under their helmets, this was a sight rarely seen from the young Commander Skywalker. Mara returned his kiss, then abruptly drawn back, eyes flicker to and fro from the Clones, warning Luke they were not yet alone. Instinctively, he blushed, and lowed his eyes bashfully, he was not too comfortable revealing the strong affection he held for this women—family _or_ friend—yet. Such displays, he believed, needed only to be reserved for complete privacy wherein they would not be easily intruded upon—unless it was your forté.

"What—exactly happened?" Luke asked, scrambling up to his feet, and unsteadily swaying.

Clone Fox wrapped an arm around him, and nodded to the distant wreckage still passionately burning. "A classic crash, Commander," he said drily; it was well known the Skywalkers had a good reputation for crashing more than actually landing.

"You must've lost complete control of the ship," Xeye stated the obvious.

Luke nodded, indicating he had. "But where exactly _are_ we?" he asked after a brief pause.

"Not too sure Commander, but it looks like there's some sort of base thirty leagues to east."

Luke frowned, realizing that they were practically lost, and undoubtedly the enemy knew well where they were, and were already on the hunt for them. He glanced uneasily around the surrounding jungle and the thick humidity that coated every leaf and twig, the air was already turning chill and damp, an indication that a storm would soon be rolling over them. The cold steeped into the very bones of his being, but that was only particularly the case for his discomfort; it was the utter and complete lack of the Force that bothered him. He had known Myrkr's insensitivity to the Force, he had been here before—a mission he was loath to recall or repent—but it still unnerved him, making him feel weak and abounded in the confused sensations he could barely make out, let alone control. His eyes strayed to Mara, and he could tell she felt the same, her face was pale, brows furrowed in worry, and lips pursed together in a thin line.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" Luke said softly, talking too loudly made him feel too uneasy in the presences of the numerous laky shadows that seemed to reach out and grab at him from all sides.

Mara nodded, edging closer to him just to feel that he was near and there to protect her if need arose. She looked up at him, into the depths of his darkened eyes, and asked warily, "Is—it natural?"

"Yes. This planet is insensitive to the Force. We shouldn't be here longer than necessary."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Fox said as he and his brother approached them, carrying the last of the gear from the ships. "But it's more those Vornskr that I don't like."

"We should probably leave soon, then," And Luke selected several bags from the pile, and heaved them onto his back. He took up his lightsaber in a ready position, sensing that their journey would not come unchallenged by the vicious Vornskr.

But in the hours that followed, their going was for the most part unchallenged, and they made good progress despite the uneven terrine of thick forest and snaky underbrush that lashed out at them, casing them to not pass unscathed with numerous scratches. As produced, at last the heavy clouds above opened up, and a cold rain pelted down onto them, dripping down from the jungle tops to land on the backs of their necks and stream down under their tunics. Luke shivered, gritting his teeth with the cold, and trying to maintain calm and focused as they wearily trudged through the underbrush. Artoo lead, chopping away a hallow trail with his cutters, though more and more he fell over a stump or log in his way, and Luke, close behind him, would have to heave him upright again before they could continue. It was slow, but they kept dutifully on with the motivation that the sooner they came to their destination and freed the captured the Jedi, the sooner they could leave this wretched planet for good.

Gradually the light faded, heralding the approach of night, and Luke raised his hand for the others to stop. Without a word they all slumped down on the muddy ground and rested themselves, sharing what rationbars and water they had among themselves. Once they had rested enough to regain what engine they could, they arose again, and started out through the thicken, branchy maze.

No one said anything, too tired and too alert for signs of the enemy to let a word cross between them. The jungle darkened to an almost unbearably depth, so that the only way for the small group of rescuers could make absolute certainty of each other was by physical contact. Mara grabbed hold of Luke's hand and felt her face flush slightly at the contact despite the night's cold and the damn-founded rain that continued to drip down on them. His hands were hard and callused from consist use with a lightsaber and blaster, and through the connect, she felt strangely comforted and warmed. But, Mara was beginning to associate that with Luke, he brought his shining presence of kindness and warmth to everyone honored to be around him.

They halted again, Mara bumping into Luke when he abruptly stopped walking. He grabbed and steadied her. Silence settled over them once again, until a swallow beeping came out of the inky blackness from Artoo. Luke knelt, unknowingly followed by Mara and the Clones, and read what the astromech had said on his display screen.

"Someone's coming," the Jedi whispered to those around him.

They readied for the attack, Mara taking up her own lightsaber and blaster she'd had the foresight to bring along.

They had not long to wait.

Out of the deep, dark shadows to their left, a deeper, darker shadow suddenly loomed up. They heard it snarly and hiss through bared teeth, and their blood ran cold at the realization that it was one of the infamous breed of Vornskr. They hard it lumber through the jungle underbrush towards them, its strong tail lashing out and breaking the twigs and sneering branches. Mara crouched closer to the ground, her figures keened the muddy earth as she prepared for the incoming attack, and any limp she might consider. She could sense the others very close by, the Clones' breath on her neck as they shouldered their weapons and readied for the fight.

"Don't attack them," Mara had to strain her ears to hear Luke's warning, his voice was so low. She realized he was hoping they would not be noticed by the canines who used the Force to hunt for prey, that some other unfortunate creator would come and lead them away from the small group, but his hope was to no avail.

The Vornskr attacked swiftly and almost slightly—an uncanny combination that unnerved the group. The Jedi ignited their lightsabers, and slashed at the limping Vornskr with accurate strokes. Two fell to the ground, dead before their even reached it. Others, seeing their brethren dead, doubled the attacked and pounced upon the group with renewed vigor and strength. They were trapped at all sides by the beasts; apparently a whole pack had fallen out to kill this unlikely prey. They pushed the group tightly together until they were fighting violent back to back with each other. Luke and Mara deflected the Vornskr who swiped with their paws, long sharp claws extended for fatal stretches. The Jedi's quick moves cased many to two lose a limb or two in the possess as the canines steadily advanced, their numbers only gradually little by very little. Mara thrusted upward with her lightsaber as one Vornskr jumped up over her, burying her weapon into the creator's gut, hot red blood gushing out over her hands. She draw back, and defended herself against yet another Vornskr who limped up in revenge of the other's death. But he was killed by a backwards thrust by Luke, who insistently turned and decapitated the beast once and far all. Mara looked, ready to thank him, when her eyes caught the sight of the still struggling Clones not far away. Many of the Vornskr, now that they had learned not to approach the Jedi or there doom would be insist death, had now doubled and tripled their attack on the Clones; jumping onto them, clawing and biting with their long fangs. Limping over the pile of bodies, Luke fought his way through the creators to the Clones' side, his lightsaber swinging ever which way with alarming ease and accurate grace. He joined his men, one of who had slumped to the ground, cradling a heavily bleeding arm and thorn shoulder. It several minutes, the young Jedi had warded off the vicious beasts, creating a ring of bodies, and those that remained quickly retreated, hissing and snarling with contempt that their prey was far more difficult than they anticipated. They disappeared back into the darkened jungle, finally leaving the group alone.

Closing her lightsaber, Mara strode quickly up to the others. Xeye leaned heavily upon his blaster, his helmet gone, revealing scared cheeks from bygone battles and one eye covered with a black patch. He grimly gazed down at his brother, and Mara followed his eyes. Luke had knelt, and was supporting the soldier's head in his hand as he inspected the wounds the Clone had received from the Vornskrs. They were too deep and bleeding too heavily for any good sign, and Luke bite his lip as he eyed the wonders even further. There was no need for words for the others, they could tell their companion was dying. The wounded Clone motioned for Xeye to come closer, and as the other Clone knelt in turn beside him, he clasped his hand, choking out his last words, "Good-bye—bro—th—er…" Then he died.

Luke stood up, his face expressionless and turned away, only his eyes spoke of the grief he felt. Mara said nothing, sense he need a few moments of peace and space to regain his composer, and waited till then, wondering what next they would do. They had to go on, Anakin needed them now more then ever, and they couldn't make it to the base without each other. Mara looked around, suddenly realizing that the blue-and-white astromech belonging to the Skywalkers, was no where to be seen.

"Luke!" she called, momentarily forgetting their danger. "Where's Artoo?"

At the mention of his little droid, Luke turned swiftly around, eyes swiftly searching for him. "Artoo?" he called, also forgetting the danger it would case. "Artoo?!" But the droid was nowhere to be seen.

Luke took a step forward, ready to go out after him, when he felt a blaster shift at his head. He stopped, realizing that they were suddenly surrounded by battle droids and soldiers, drawn to them by the noise of their fight with the Vornskr. One stepped forward to the Jedi, a tall, arrogant man in grey and black.

"Well, well," he said haughtily and disdainfully. "If it isn't another Skywalker. Commander Tarkin will be most pleased with your capture, _Jedi._"

Luke said nothing, and without the experienced reply from the captive, the officer struggled, motioning them to be lead roughly away through the slowly lightening jungle to the nearby base.


End file.
